


lines, and how we draw them

by 99izm



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: "Business Dates", Alternate Reality, Canon Compliant, Chaebol! Woojin, Character Development, Dates, Dummy's Guide To Making Friends, Eventual Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Like Fucking Slowburn, M/M, Sasaeng Fan(s), Strangers to Friends, Travel, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:57:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 42,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/99izm/pseuds/99izm
Summary: Jihoon thinks that everything started to veer off its tracks the moment Park Woojin walked into the room, in the glory of expensive suits and luxury shoes. (Alternatively, Jihoon is an idol and Park Woojin is a chaebol, whose company is in charge of managing Wanna One.)





	1. Chapter One

There’s a mixture of feelings swirling within Jihoon: nervousness, anxiety, and yet, happiness, as his and Daniel-hyung’s names get called out by BoA-sunbaenim. Jihoon can feel the adrenaline and excitement of debuting course through his veins. A part of him is still aware of the need to be humble and thankful for this opportunity to debut, thanks to his fans who have supported him every step of the way, for it’s a chance that not everyone gets. They used to be 101 but now, there are only going to be 10 of them who will carry on the spirit of Produce 101, to become Wanna One.

He feels his palms turn clammy with sweat as the seconds tick by, and the background music does nothing to alleviate the worry that flows within him.

“And the first place goes to… Trainee Kang Daniel!” BoA-sunbaenim announces, and Jihoon finds that it’s easy to clap instinctively.

There’s a particular sense of relief that washes upon him like a tidal wave, and he is hit by an overwhelming surge of joy and yet, sadness at the fact that the center spot which used to seem like it was within his reach had slowly slipped from his grasp. It wrecks him from the inside, to know that it could have been his, and he wonders what went wrong along the way.

The microphone weighs heavily in Jihoon’s hands, and he remembers that he actually has to say something, his closing remarks of gratitude at being able to debut, for coming in second place.

The rest of the night passes by like a blur. Jihoon doesn’t quite remember how he actually managed to say everything that he wanted to say during his final speech, and he vaguely recalls rushed hugs and congratulations.

It’s been a long time since he had last seen his mother, ever since he went on Produce 101. Jihoon feels like he’s back to being a little boy, who knew nothing of the bitterness of the entertainment industry and of the pains that come along with it as his mother envelops him in a tight hug.

“You’ve done well, my son,” she says, stroking the back of his head. Jihoon can hear the way her voice sounds hoarse. He has a feeling that she must have cried when the results were announced. He wraps his own arms around her as well—and it’s only now that he realises how much he misses her.

“Thank you,” Jihoon murmurs. “I missed you, mom.”

“I missed you too, son,” his mother replies, and she’s drawing back from the hug and Jihoon can see the pride that’s laced in her smile. “Let’s head back home together?”

Jihoon nods. For those who are going to debut in Wanna One, they are given several days to settle their contracts, and it also means that they are allowed to head back home—to the place that’s different from the dormitory, the place that they’ve called home for the past few months. 

He thinks of his brother, of how he must have been studying hard at college; of his dad, of how he must have been working hard to support the family; of his mother, who’s standing in front of him, but from the months of little contact, it almost feels like she has become somewhat a foreign figure to him.

Jihoon can’t wait to be  _ home _ .

 

—

 

It takes them several days, but the contracts for Wanna One get finalised.

Unlike the previous run with I.O.I., their contracts strictly say that each company will not be allowed to promote the members outside of Wanna One, that they have a longer run than their I.O.I. counterparts, and that profits will be divided according to the number of companies that are involved. 

Jaehwan-hyung smirks at them as he says, “I’ll be bringing home  _ all  _ my money.”

The rest of them laugh, and it’s Jisung-hyung who points out, “Didn’t you just sign a contract with CJ E&M?”

“Damn it! Don’t rain on my parade, hyung!”

There’s still some awkwardness that hangs between the members, as not everyone has gotten equal chances to interact with one another. Jihoon doesn’t even think that he has ever seen Daehwi and Jaehwan talk to each other before. But then, Jisung-hyung is looking at them with a motherly gaze, and Jihoon thinks that it’ll be okay, that time will pass, and they will become  _ family _ .

It’s also then when the door of the meeting room opens, and there’s an unfamiliar figure that steps into the room. It’s a young male, with dyed brown hair and tanned skin. Jihoon would think that they were about the same age, if it weren’t for the fact that the stranger was already wearing Gucci from head to toe, despite his age. It also doesn’t help that his chin is tipped high, and there’s something about him that just radiates wealth and arrogance.

The stranger makes his way to a chair in the center of the room, and it’s awkward as the members’ laughter come to an abrupt stop. A female staff comes trailing after him meekly, and she begins, “This is Mr. Park Woojin, the son of Naver Corporation, and he will be funding most of your activities as Wanna One.”

There’s a lazy smirk that tugs at the corners of Woojin’s lips as he crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. “Nice to meet all of you. I look forward to the activities that you’ll be having in the future.”

Jisung-hyung notions for the members to bow to Woojin, and they all do so while saying, “Please take care of us” loudly.

Jihoon has always wished that things like wealth don’t matter in the world, but it’s hard for it to _ not  _ matter when the world today, is run by capitalism. He can tell that Woojin’s a rich and apathetic asshole, the type who thinks that everything in the world can be bought with money, kind of like Tony Stark—and Jihoon doesn’t want to have anything to do with him, really.

Woojin nods in approval, and then Jihoon feels a steely gaze on him. When he looks up, he meets eyes with Woojin. It’s  _ strange _ . Jihoon isn’t really the type to back down from eye contact, but there’s something about Woojin’s gaze that is intrusive and invading, and Jihoon feels like Woojin isn’t just looking at him, but looking  _ through  _ him.

“Hmm,” Jihoon hears Woojin muse. The room is silent, and everyone else fiddles with their thumbs as they are not quite sure of what they should be doing now. “Would the rest of you leave the room for now, except  _ you _ .”

“Huh?” Jihoon finds the words coming out of his mouth before his brain can actually process what’s happening. 

The rest of the members stare at Jihoon. He can almost hear Jinyoung’s gaze on him:  _ what did you do, hyung?!  _

“Yes,  _ you _ ,” Woojin reiterates. Then, he make a sound of annoyance at how the rest of the members are still gawking at Jihoon and haven’t moved from their spots. “Did you not hear what I just said? I said that all of you are to leave the room, except for  _ him _ .”

There’s the voice of authority present in Woojin’s voice and it prompts everyone else to leave the room, until he and Jihoon are the only ones left. The door closes, and then Woojin’s beckoning for Jihoon to come closer.

“I like you,” Woojin says plainly. Jihoon thinks of himself as someone who’s pretty empathetic, but he’s finding it rather difficult to read this Park Woojin. “You seem interesting. Your gaze isn’t quite like the rest of the Wanna One members’.”

Jihoon doesn’t know what possesses him to say the next words, but perhaps, there’s something in Woojin’s voice that makes him feel like Woojin’s dehumanising him, treating him like he’s an interesting exhibit in a museum, a spectacle for others to see. 

“So? What are you implying?” 

Maybe it comes out harsher than any of them had expected, because Woojin jerks back slightly, and then he’s laughing. Jihoon just squints at the sight, at how Woojin’s laughter sounds genuine but fake at the same time, as if he isn’t used to hearing someone talk to him like that. Well, if Jihoon thinks about it, it’s probably true. 

As the son of Naver Corporation, Woojin probably has many people bending their knees down for him, bowing their heads down at him—and here is Jihoon, talking to him as if they were equals.

“You  _ are  _ interesting, after all,” Woojin comments after he manages to compose himself. Then, he’s standing up and extending a hand to Jihoon. “Let’s be friends.”

Jihoon raises a single eyebrow, and he eyes at the extended hand warily. “Is there something I should be aware of before I shake hands with you?”

“Do you think you can get poisoned just by shaking hands with me?” Woojin jokes, and he takes it upon himself to shake hands with Jihoon. “I do want to find out more about you.”

It’s an awkward handshake, but it’s firm. It’s strange, because the back of Woojin’s fingers are rougher than Jihoon expects. There’s always this assumption that sons of large conglomerates are spoilt, but the way Woojin’s fingers are rough along the edges seem to imply otherwise. So, Jihoon returns the handshake.

“Good,” Woojin grins. “I have to go for another meeting now, but I look forward to the rest of Wanna One’s activities.”

 

—

 

That night, Minhyun-hyung calls Jihoon over to the balcony of their dorm, wrapping him into a tight hug and asking him, “Please don’t tell me that he’s going to be sponsoring you.”

Sponsors aren’t rare, and it’s an open secret that the entertainment industry runs on connections and money. Jihoon wishes that it wasn’t so, but he knows of how almost every idol group has a sponsor. It’s the only way idol groups can gain prominence in such a heavily saturated market. He thinks of how several trainees were deemed as  _ Mnet’s sons _ , and how others had gained prominence through various online forums—and it’s hard not to think that they had connections that supported them from behind. People don’t gain connections out of nowhere, and it’s only sponsors—people who have the money—who have the bargaining power to do get them to places; and Jihoon thinks that it’s anyone’s (who wants to become an idol) dream to get one.

Jihoon shakes his head, but he finds himself sinking into Minhyun-hyung’s embrace despite the warm summer air that’s approaching. “He said that he finds me  _ interesting _ and that he wants to be friends with me.”

Minhyun-hyung pulls away from his hug, and he raises a single eyebrow questioningly. “Friends?  _ Really _ ?”

It does sound unbelievable that Park Woojin, the son of Naver Corporation, the rich asshole who could have everything  _ and  _ anything in his hands, wants to become  _ friends  _ with Jihoon. Jihoon’s just like any other person walking around Seoul, just with a tad more passion when it comes to performing and acting—and having a heavier weight on his shoulders, of determination and wanting to do well after creating an impact with his appearance on Produce 101 and being able to debut in Wanna One. 

“Right, hyung?” Jihoon sighs. “It doesn’t even sound  _ real _ . Not even to me.”

“Well,” Minhyun-hyung reaches to ruffle his hair. There’s something about the movement that reminds him of the way his older brother would ruffle his hair before he went out of their house, telling him to “Take care of the house, okay?” Perhaps, Jihoon never quite realised how much he missed brotherly affection until now. “If he didn’t do anything else and doesn’t want anything more, then let’s just see how things go.”

“But Jihoon-ah,” and then Minhyun-hyung’s taking Jihoon’s hand into his and he maintains a firm grip on them. “If he ever approaches you about wanting to sponsor you, tell me about it, okay?”

Jihoon nods. 

But he doesn’t miss the vague hint of sadness in Minhyun-hyung’s voice.

 

—

 

Jihoon almost forgets about Park Woojin’s existence as Wanna One gets swept into a flurry of activities. They get offers to shoot for various companies as CF models: from uniforms to cosmetics, while practicing for their debut album. It feels as if it was just yesterday when they were still boys growing into the bodies of men, mastering choreography under limited time, and trying to display their best sides to the general public.

They are in the middle of taking their concept photos for their Naver profiles when the door to the recording studio opens with a loud bang. Park Woojin saunters in, as if he owns the place. Well, thinking about it, Woojin probably  _ did  _ own the studio.

He walks over to where the photographer is, and there’s a certain tension that arises between the members and Woojin. Everyone’s aware of who Park Woojin is, and the memory of how he specifically called out for Jihoon remains fresh in their mind.

Jihoon bites at his lower lip as Jinyoung prods at his side, “What do you think he’s here for?”

“Well, I guess, he’d be here to take a look at the profile pictures that will, after all, be up on  _ his  _ website,” Daehwi interrupts, latching onto Jinyoung’s arm.

Jihoon hums in response, as he watches Woojin talk to the photographer—and Jihoon can’t help but wonder if Woojin really  _ does  _ know anything about photography, from the way they’ve been talking for a pretty long time.

As Jihoon’s engrossed in his thoughts, Woojin straightens his back from where he had been gazing down at the camera to straighten out the creases in his suit—and then, he’s walking over to where Jihoon is.

“It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Woojin says.

Jihoon squints at him. “We’re talking like as if we’re  _ friends _ .”

“Aren’t we?” Woojin offers him a smirk in response.

Jihoon doesn’t quite know what to respond to that. But, when he turns to his side to look at Daehwi and Jinyoung for help, they are already gone and have retreated to the dressing room. It makes Jihoon scowl, and Woojin laughs.

“Am I that bad of a company?” Woojin asks.

Jihoon wonders if he should be honest. At the end of the day, Woojin is still the son of Naver Corporation, who’s supposedly financing Wanna One’s activities, and Jihoon wonders how much he can push the line of how he’s been acting with Woojin. 

But he doesn’t want to put out a mask in front of Woojin. So Jihoon looks straight into Woojin’s eyes and says, “I don’t really know you enough to make a final decision.”

“That’s true,” Woojin nods in agreement. He places his fingers underneath his chin, thinking, and Jihoon can’t help but wonder what thoughts are running through his mind. It’s hard for him to read Woojin; when there seems to be so many different layers to him. 

And it thus, doesn’t prepare Jihoon for Woojin’s next words, “Alright then. We’re going for dinner tonight. So that we can get to know each other better.”

“What,” Jihoon deadpans. “ _ We _ ?”

“Yes. Unless your hearing is impaired, I did say  _ we _ ,” Woojin says. He looks down at his wrist, where a Rolex watch sits, for a moment before he continues. “Tell your manager that I’ve requested for your presence over dinner at 8, and I’ll give you ten minutes to get ready before we leave.”

“I haven’t said I would go,” Jihoon replies defiantly.

“Did I say that you had a choice?” Woojin raises a single eyebrow.

“Because, you  _ don’t _ .”

 

—

 

They end up at some posh French restaurant in one of the tallest buildings in Gangnam. As the chauffeur drops them off at the lobby, Jihoon can’t help but feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. It’s not the same as how the paparazzi films him, or how the  _ sasaeng  _ fans watch him from a distance—but it’s a kind of gaze that makes him feel like the people are looking down at him.

He swallows the lump that’s building inside his throat, and his hoodie and jeans that used to provide a sense of comfort to him, suddenly feel constricting and suffocating; a constant reminder of how he doesn’t fit into this society of suits and ties. 

He’s lagging several steps behind Woojin, who has his hands tucked inside the pockets of his suit pants. Outside this building, Jihoon would have thought of him to be a pompous asshole, but there’s something about the black suit, white shirt, and tie that makes him just blend in like the rest of the people in the building, that Jihoon sort of forgets he’s worlds apart.

It’s funny how their roles seem reversed in just a simple change of setting. Previously, it was Woojin who looked like he didn’t quite fit in the studio where they were taking photos. Now, it’s Jihoon who doesn’t blend in with the pure white walls of the pristine, prestigious building that they are currently in.

The security staff don’t bat a single eyelash at how Jihoon’s trailing behind him. Instead, they bow to Woojin and say, “Good evening, Mr. Park.” 

They don’t say anything to Jihoon and somehow, Jihoon comes to think of it as a good thing. It’s better that they don’t talk to him than if they did.

Woojin waves the security staff with a sloppy hand, and Jihoon finds the lump within his throat growing faster that it threatens to make it hard to breathe. Jihoon finally gets the chance to take a breath of air when they are in the lift, when they are alone.

Woojin’s looking at him intently, but he doesn’t say anything throughout the entire elevator ride. It’s awkward, but Jihoon doesn’t have the right words lying at the tip of his tongue, so he doesn’t say anything either. 

They get off the elevator when the  _ ding  _ of the elevator signals that it’s their floor. Jihoon sees the number 55 from the corner of his eyes, and he blinks at the sign of the restaurant as they are waiting to be served.

It’s in Latin alphabets, but it isn’t a word that Jihoon has ever seen before in his life. Perhaps, it could be in French, for how much of a higher echelon Park Woojin is in.

“I don’t have a reservation for tonight,” Woojin says languidly as a restaurant staff approaches them. ‘But I’m sure you can do something about that, can’t you?”

The staff looks at him with a small, practiced smile before bowing at him. It probably isn’t the first time that she has seen him, from the way she recognises Woojin, even without Woojin giving her his name.

“Of course, Mr. Park. We will always prepare a table for you upon your request,” she says.

“That’s great to know,” Woojin replies, but he doesn’t seem grateful at all. He’s turning back to Jihoon, and signalling for Jihoon to walk into the restaurant first.

But Jihoon finds it hard to take the first step. The staff hadn’t made any explicit remarks of the way he’s dressed, but he knows how to differentiate a fancy restaurant from the small family restaurants that he’s used to eating at. The restaurants that he’s grown up eating at, do not have servers waiting for you outside, clearing tables upon your request, and neither do they have daunting jet black curtains and black marbled floors, that reflect everything to the rest of the world.

“What are you waiting for?” Woojin asks. Jihoon blinks at him, and Woojin sighs before grabbing his hand and leading him forward to where the staff is walking towards.

  
  
  
  
  


They are seated in one of the tables that are against the glass windows that encapsulate the nightlife of Seoul from above. As Jihoon presses his hands against the glass window, he feels a slight thrill run through his body, at the idea of a chance of falling through the windows and crashing onto the ground so easily. But Woojin clears his throat, and Jihoon is brought back to reality, whereby he’s supposed to be having dinner together with Park Woojin.

“Have you decided what you’ll be eating?” Woojin asks, flipping through the menu.

“No,” Jihoon replies, and he pulls the chair in closer. He takes the menu into his hands, and feels the thickness of the menu on his fingertips. It’s unlike looking at the board of a family restaurant and ordering food that is written in Hangul—because the menu only has Latin alphabets of food that he doesn’t know how to read.

He swallows the lump inside his throat, and there’s a sting to his eyes that Jihoon recognises as embarrassment or shame. He’s not quite sure why Woojin had brought him to a place like this, somewhere he clearly did not belong to—from the way he dresses, to the way he can’t read the menu, to the way the rest of the diners are holding sophisticated conversations and hiding their mouths with their hands as they laugh softly and politely. 

Jihoon wishes that there was a way for him to escape from where he is, but Woojin is his guard and he holds the key to his locked cage. 

“I’ll just have what you’re having,” Jihoon decides to say, and he closes the menu with more force than usual.

“You sure?” Woojin raises a single eyebrow. “I’ve been told that I like the  _ strangest  _ food combinations.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon manages to breathe out. “I’ve never been here. You’re the expert. I’ll trust you.”

“Alright then,” Woojin grins slightly and he’s calling the waiter over.

The waiter doesn’t spare him a single glance the entire time Woojin’s making their order. Perhaps, he’s being polite and awarding attention to Woojin, who’s saying the food that he’d like to have. But there’s a nagging thought at the back of Jihoon’s head that tells him that he isn’t even  _ worth  _ a single glance in this restaurant, and Jihoon finds it harder to remain afloat.

“That’d be all,” Woojin says, closing his menu.

“Alright, sir,” the waiter replies with a polite smile, and practiced hands come to pick up the menus from in front of both of them.

Silence washes upon the both of them after the waiter leaves. It’s stifling, and Jihoon can’t help but look down at where his hands are lying on his lap and he plays with his fingers. 

“Is it your first time here?” Woojin asks.

Jihoon wonders if Woojin is really dumb or if he’s just unaware of how they are inherently, very different people. They feel like two parallel lines, that are never meant to converge, only aware of each other’s presence at the side.

“Do I look like I have been here before?” Jihoon retorts.

“Well, no,” Woojin replies. He’s playing with his utensils, and the streetlights from outside reflect off the silver of the butterknife. “I think you will like the food here though.”

Jihoon can vaguely remember the  _ pojangmacha _ s that he saw as they were being driven to the building. He thinks of the piping hot  _ tteokbokki  _ and  _ sundae _ that he hasn’t eaten for ages, and suddenly, he wants to eat them all. He knows how people would literally die to have a meal at a fancy restaurant, but there’s just something so heartening about street food that Jihoon would rather eat those than have a meal at a stifling environment like this.

“Really?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrows. “Aren’t we strangers who were supposed to get to know each other  _ better _ ?”

“If you end up not liking the food later, I’ll know that French food isn’t your thing,” Woojin supplies, a lazy smirk hanging on his face.

Oh. So, the Latin alphabets weren’t English words, but French. At least he got that right.

It’s timely how the soup gets delivered to them at this time. Jihoon can see how the steam rises from the soup, and how there’s a fucking huge lobster that sits precariously, almost hanging out of the bowl.

At least Jihoon knows what a lobster bisque is.

He takes the soup spoon and starts eating. It’s a taste that Jihoon has never tasted before: it’s creamy and rich, and he can taste how the flavours are amplified by the freshness of the lobster meat. There’s just something divine about the soup that Jihoon can only deem it as  _ expensive _ . It is pretty fucking delicious, but there’s also something about it that draws him away from being able to perfectly enjoy the dish; in the sense that it reminds him of how he’s like a tiny crustacean compared to this large, whole, juicy lobster.

And it makes his eyes sting. 

Jihoon really wishes that thinking is as easy as doing. He wishes that he could just escape from the confines of this restaurant, and head back to the comforts of his room in Wanna One’s dormitory, but he knows better than to escape from here, from Woojin.

A part of him just wants to be defiant against Woojin, but he’s afraid of the consequences of going against someone who’s backing his group financially. There’s also a reminder of how he doesn’t actually know where he is, only that he’s in some expensive district in Seoul (probably Gangnam) and he doesn’t have any money of him for him to be able to head back to the dormitory, which he also doesn’t know the address of. It’s almost easy for him to lose track of who he is, of where he is when Wanna One is shipped like objects to the various venues where they are supposed to be.

“How’s the food?” Woojin’s voice cuts through his thoughts.

Jihoon takes a large exhale, and he finds the emotions overwhelming him. It makes the stinging in his eyes grow more painful, and a part of him is afraid that the tears could fall any moment—and he doesn’t want to cry in public, much more, in front of Park Woojin.

So he doesn’t look at Woojin even as he stands up, and he announces, “Sorry, but I need to use the washroom.”

Jihoon doesn’t wait for a reply, and he takes quick, hastened steps to the washroom.

  
  
  
  
  


There are only two cubicles in the bathroom, which makes it not too big, and Jihoon finds it easier to breathe, despite the smaller space. He flips on the tap, and the gush of water makes it easy for him to splash the cold water against his face. There’s something soothing about the feeling, that it makes it easier for him to breathe, that he doesn’t feel like there’s something that’s stuck permanently within his ribcage. 

He doesn’t quite know what he should do now, especially when being in front of Park Woojin is suffocating and it feels terrible. He reaches out for his phone, that has been stuck in his back pocket for the past few hours; and he texts the first person that he can think of.

> **To: Jinyoung**   
>  hey, you there?

He doesn’t get a message. Figures. 

That’s the thing about life, Jihoon thinks, that when you’re in need of help, there aren’t people around to help you. 

He fiddles around with his phone for a while more, scrolling through Twitter mindlessly. He searches his own name out of curiosity. It’s ridiculous how fast YMC Entertainment and Naver work hand in hand, because their profile pictures are already updated. 

The door of the washroom opens to reveal Woojin, and the moment of serenity and peace is broken. But Woojin does something that Jihoon doesn’t expect, and he closes the door behind him and asks, “You alright?”

“Why do you care?” Jihoon scoffs. They  _ are  _ strangers, who were supposed to get to know each other. But the way Woojin’s showing his concern for him feels awkward and unwanted, especially when Jihoon thinks of the lobster bisque and French words.

“Your lobster bisque’s getting cold.”

“Oh my god,” Jihoon covers his face with his hands, and he can’t help the laughter; the resignation at their situation from escaping. “I can’t believe you.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

The worst part is that Woojin sounds like he doesn’t actually know what’s wrong with the situation that’s unrolling in front of them. Jihoon would give him the benefit of the doubt, that perhaps, he was a lonely child that never quite dealt well with social situations—-but Jihoon is overwhelmed, and he feels the sparks of rage within him, and he can’t deal with Woojin.

“Everything!” Jihoon says, a tad too loudly because he, himself, flinches at the way it comes out. He takes a large inhale before he continues. This time, in a softer voice. “You don’t understand how it’s like to be in my shoes. Stop thinking that you best on how to get to know me, when you're just a rich asshole."

“Jihoon, if you don’t like this place, you can just say that you don’t. I can bring you to another place in the future,” Woojin tries to reason. Jihoon wishes that he couldn’t detect the sincerity in his voice.

“You just… don’t get it, do you?” Jihoon feels the tears budding within the corners of his eyes, and he wipes at it furiously with the sleeves of his hoodie before it can fall. “It isn’t that I don’t like the food here or anything—You know what? Forget it.”

“Pretend that I didn’t say anything,” Jihoon say, and he makes sure to add a stronger affirmative tone in his voice. “Let’s go back to dinner.”

If Woojin is confused about what just happened, Jihoon doesn’t know because he walks out before Woojin can say anything.

  
  
  
  
  


It’s hard to pretend that nothing transpired in the bathroom for the rest of the meal. Woojin tries to pick up the pieces of conversation, and Jihoon tries to not let the shakiness of his heart affect the responses that he makes. The rest of the food  _ is  _ good, although Jihoon’s not quite sure if they will be coming back here again.

Woojin (or rather, his chauffeur) drops Jihoon off  several streets down from his dormitory. Jihoon had asked him not to drop him directly, despite his insistence, for the fear the  _ sasaeng  _ fans will be around, and he doesn’t want the rumour mill to start grinding. 

“I’ll find a better restaurant next time,” Woojin promises before Jihoon gets out of the car.

_ I hope there isn’t a next time,  _ sits precariously at the tip of Jihoon’s tongue. But he swallows the words and he opts for, “Sure” instead.

 

—

 

Practice is good because it makes Jihoon forget about Park Woojin.

Perhaps, Naver Corporation is too busy with preparing for Wanna One’s debut, that Park Woojin hasn’t been showing up in front of them for the past couple of weeks. They get to film their own variety show, Wanna One GO for one of the days, and there’s just something nice about it, despite having cameras on them for hours, that he and Guanlin get to play games and eat chicken and ice-cream, as if they were just regular boys and not Wanna One’s Park Jihoon and Lai Guanlin.

Before he knows it, it’s already time for their debut showcase. He feels like he’s dancing on electricity, from the way he’s fidgeting in his seat. There’s nervousness and anxiety that courses through him, in a way that’s different from how it was like during the finals of Produce 101; that this time, it’s a nervousness that stems from how he doesn’t want to make any mistakes on stage, wants to show a prepared and perfect side of him in front of everyone.

It’s Jisung-hyung who draws them into a group hug, it’s Jaehwan-hyung and Seongwoo-hyung who lead them through a group cheer, and it’s Minhyun-hyung who gives them a pep talk, of the wonders of debut, of how it’s only the start now and that it’s only going to go tougher from now.

Jihoon thinks that he’s speaking from experience, of past success that translated into failure instead; but Minhyun-hyung’s standing in front of them now, and Sungwoon-hyung’s the one to put it into words, “We meet many failures in our life, and it’s up to us to make them into a success.”

They pull their hands together into a pile, and they shout: “Wanna One, fighting!”

It makes Jihoon feel like there’s nothing in this world that is impossible, that anything is possible.

  
  
  
  
  


The showcase is a success.

Jihoon feels the fatigue running through his body. It’s been hours (or maybe days) since he last slept, but it feels like the fatigue only caught up to him now, after the rock that’s the showcase has been lifted from his heart. They are all sweaty, and their stylists are helping to cool them down by wiping off their sweat and handing them portable fans. 

He feels the weight of the rabbit headband on his head, and he’s about to take it off when there’s a bright flash that blinds him temporarily. When Jihoon manages to open his eyes again, he sees an unwanted face—Park Woojin smiling at him. 

“Keep it on. You look cute with it,” Woojin states simply. He’s in a more casual attire than normal, and by that, Jihoon means that he dropped the suit and the tie, but the dress pants and white shirt remain.

Jihoon scoffs, and he takes off the rabbit headband and throws it at Woojin. Woojin catches it easily, and he walks closer to Jihoon, and it makes the stylists that have been surrounding him duck away. 

He pulls the headband over Jihoon’s head. It’s slow and gentle, as if Woojin’s cradling a small baby chick, and there’s something intimate about the way Woojin is doing it to him that makes Jihoon’s heart skip a beat. 

Then, Woojin takes several steps back, and he’s pulling out his phone and snaps several photos of Jihoon. The flash is annoying—who even takes photos with flash? And Jihoon scowls even deeper. 

Jihoon knows that the rest of the members are around, so why aren’t they doing anything? God. Useless! He snatches the headband off again, and holds it under his arms before glaring at Woojin, “So what do you want?”

“As the son of Naver, it was declared mandatory that I attend your debut showcon,” Woojin explains. He’s probably satisfied with the photos of Jihoon that he took as he pockets his phone with a smile. Then, he raises his voice slightly, “It was a great show, everyone. You’ve done well.”

Woojin then looks straight at Jihoon, before extending his hand and patting him on the shoulder. “I enjoyed watching your performances today. It was a good showcase of the skills that you polished since Produce 101.”

“Wait, you actually watched it from the start?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow. It’s hard to wrap his mind around the fact that Woojin was watching their show from the start, especially when he’s supposed to be some busy, rich businessman.

“Of course,” Woojin gives him a look, and then he’s waving his VIP Access card in front of Jihoon. “I was watching from the VIP section, even.”

_ Oh. _

There’s something about it that tugs at Jihoon’s heartstrings. He never expected that Woojin would actually come down to watch their concert, despite his obligations. They were just fundamentally such different people: idols and  _ chaebols _ . Jihoon would never have thought of Woojin as someone who appreciated idol music and dance, but rather someone who’d be in theaters watching musicals or classical concerts. That is what Jihoon associates the rich with instead.

He finds his heart skipping a beat, and while the memory of what happened in the restaurant comes rushing to him like a torrent, after talking to Daehwi and Jinyoung about it, Jihoon understands that he wasn’t exactly being a  _ nice  _ person at the restaurant. He’s tethering along the line of friendship between him and Park Woojin; and tonight makes him think that Park Woojin isn’t as  _ bad  _ as he thought, and there could be that thread of hope that’s dangling down in front him, that tells him  _ hey, you could become friends _ .

But expectations are built, and then crumbled, because Woojin says, “You should put more effort in your dancing though.”

“What,” Jihoon deadpans. He feels whatever hope that was building up within him dissipate into nothingness, and it makes him question how he even thought that it was possible for them to become  _ friends _ . 

“I was watching your dancing, and I think that you  _ could  _ put it a little more effort into it,” Woojin continues. “I’m not saying that you’re a bad dancer, but I think that the dance could look better if you had bigger movements.” 

Woojin’s motioning with his hands, stretching out his arms purposefully big to make his point. Jihoon bites at his lower lip, and he finds himself being stabbed by a thousand invisible arrows. It’s been awhile since his knee injury acted up, but he feels the piercing ache at this moment. 

It isn’t even that he’s lazy about dancing. He always puts in a 101% whenever it comes to performing, being on stage, and it just makes him feel fucking terrible that his efforts don’t get translated into the outcomes that he wants. His limbs are aching from fatigue, and Woojin’s still going on about how else he thinks the showcase can be improved—and Jihoon doesn’t want to listen of it.

So, he throws the headband onto the nearby couch before walking out of the room. Jihoon’s not quite sure where he wants to go, but he figures that anywhere would be better than where Park Woojin is at.

Jihoon’s storming down the corridor, but he’s forced to stop when he feels a tight grip on his arm. When he looks back, it’s Park Woojin. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere, where you’re not at,” Jihoon spits out. He’s aware of the staff that’s around him, walking down the corridors to get to where they are, but he’s just burning with rage, of the memories of what Woojin had said to him before, that he doesn’t care about what everyone else would say. 

“What did I do wrong?” Woojin asks as he loosens his grip on Jihoon’s arm, and lets his hand dangle sadly at his side.

There it is again. Jihoon senses the sincerity that lies beyond the dark eyes and deep voice—and he wishes that he didn’t. It’s easier to pretend that you aren’t aware of things, so that it justifies your actions; but Jihoon  _ senses  _ the sincerity—and it makes him think that Woojin is genuinely unaware of the unintended bite in his voice.

“You don’t realise how hurtful your words can be, do you?” Jihoon takes a deep exhale before looking straight into Woojin’s eyes

Woojin looks surprised for a second, but it fades as quickly as it appears. There’s something rehearsed about the action, and Jihoon is reminded that while he isn’t like  _ them _ , he isn’t exactly a  _ normal  _ human being either. “Nobody ever told me anything about what I’ve said before. They just accept it.”

_ Figures _ . Why is that people always find themselves submitting to the rich, and they do not point out their flaws so that they can become  _ human  _ as well?

And Woojin brings it upon himself to remedy the situation in front of them. He holds onto Jihoon’s arm, and he looks into Jihoon’s eyes and says, “Tell me how I can make it up to you. What do you want? An MCM bag pack? Prada shoes?"

_ What the fuck _ .

This is why Jihoon never wanted to have anything to do with Park Woojin in the first place.

There’s just something so demeaning and dehumanising about what Woojin says. It makes Jihoon feel like a commodity that can be bought over by material goods and wealth. Woojin is the son of Naver Corporation that supports Wanna One, but there’s something about the way that he acts, that makes him no different from the  _ sasaeng  _ fans that trail around them, that bring them branded goods as if it justifies their stalking activities.

Jihoon feels the familiar sting in his eyes, and he spits at Woojin, “Is this the only way you can think of how to make things right? You’re fucking  _ ridiculous. _ ”

He walks away from Woojin for the second time since they’ve been alone together, and he doesn’t look back.

  
  
  
  
  


When Wanna One gets back to the dormitory after the weekend of music show performances, there are huge black bags that are sitting in the middle of the living room. Jaehwan-hyung’s the first to run over to it in excitement, “Oh my god! What is this?”

Jihoon swallows the lump that’s building inside his throat as he has a faint inkling of what that pile of stuff contains. 

“Oh, there’s a note attached here,” Daehwi points out to the white sheet of paper that’s stuck against one of the bags. He picks it out and begins to read it, “For Jihoon. You know what this is for. From, Park Woojin.”

Fuck. He knew it.

Sungwoon-hyung and Jaehwan-hyung are the first to open the bags, and they gasp in shock at the branded clothes that come tumbling out from the bag. It’s Sungwoon-hyung, as well versed in brands as he ever was, that points out, “Isn’t this the limited Gucci X Supreme collaboration backpack? What the fuck.”

Jihoon finds the disgust rising to his throat, that he can’t quite believe that Woojin still went ahead with this, despite what he said before leaving. He finds it harder to look at the black bags in the living room (which are probably branded as well), and he looks away and tugs at his backpack, “You can have it if you want, Sungwoon-hyung,” and he heads straight for his room.

He hears the hyungs teasing him from behind, “Jihoonie got a sponsor!” and Jihoon wishes Park Woojin could just get the fuck out of his life.

 

—

 

It’s Jinyoung who approaches him in the middle of the night when Jihoon can’t sleep and he’s snacking on cherry tomatoes at the corner of the kitchen.

Jihoon wishes that he could eat something apart from cherry tomatoes, but there isn’t anything else in the kitchen, and the rest of the hyungs would surely make fun of him if he were to eat ramyeon, and wake up to a swollen face. He wishes that he didn’t have to diet, but when he sees the chubby cheeks and round face when he looks at himself in the mirror, he thinks of how he looks like on camera, and he asks their manager to get more cherry tomatoes instead of meat.

He looks up at the clock that’s staring back at him from the living room.  _ 1:05 _ , it reads. There are three more hours before they have to wake up and start filming another CF that they have been delegated as models. He reads the comments on social media by his fans that tell him that he needs to sleep more, but it’s hard to fall asleep when your mind remains fucking awake.

“Hyung, you’re not sleeping?” Jinyoung’s voice is sudden and unexpected, and it prompts Jihoon to look up.

Jinyoung’s dark circles look darker than Jihoon remembers it to be, but there’s something about the moment that makes Jihoon scoot to the side, and Jinyoung’s sitting down next to him, against the cupboards of their kitchen.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Jihoon says, popping another cherry tomato into his mouth. It’s meant to be sweet, but Jihoon can only taste the faint bitterness of the vegetable. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be sleeping too?”

“I couldn’t sleep too,” Jinyoung replies, and there’s a faint smile that’s on his face.

Silence hangs above them, but Jihoon can feel the weight of the words that Jinyoung wants to say. 

“Hyung, are you  _ okay _ ?” Jinyoung’s the one to break the silence. Jihoon feels Jinyoung’s gaze on him, but he can’t quite bring himself to meet Jinyoung’s eyes, not when it’s steely and it feels like it’d reveal everything that he’s been bottling up.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Jihoon replies, eyebrows scrunching together. “We finally got to debut, we’re performing, we’re getting CF deals—we’re doing everything that we always wanted to do.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Jinyoung says firmly as he holds onto Jihoon’s hand from the side. “I’m asking if you are  _ okay _ .”

Jihoon feels the lump growing in his throat. He knows what Jinyoung is asking him about, and it’s hard to find the words when he has never been forced to admit whatever feelings and emotions about Park Woojin that’s swirling within him.

It takes him a while to collect his thoughts, to piece them together into proper sentences, but Jinyoung’s hand on his feels like a steady anchor that encourages him to say whatever that’s on his mind, no matter how incoherent he may be.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Jihoon settles, after taking a huge breath. “Part of me wants to give him the benefit of doubt, that he’s acting like this because he doesn’t know how to interact with other people, that aren’t rich assholes.”

I want to give him the chance, maybe we could become friends just like how he wanted us to become friends—but every time I feel like I can get my hopes up, it just comes crashing down.”

Jinyoung’s grip on his hand only tightens, and it tells Jihoon that he’s listening, and Jihoon continues.

“How do you even react to someone who thinks of making up for his mistakes by buying you branded goods, as if you’re someone who can be appeased by material goods? How do you even react to someone who brings you to some posh as fuck restaurant, in the pretense of wanting to get to know you better, even though you can’t fucking read French?”

It’s hard for Jihoon as he feels the sting in his eyes, and the tears begin to fall even though he wishes that he didn’t cry that easily, wishes that he wasn’t crying over the frustrations of Park Woojin. But there’s something relieving about crying, about how it feels like all the pent-up stress from before is escaping from him.

Jinyoung’s hand on his moves to envelop him into a one-arm hug. They don’t say anything, but Jihoon finds comfort in their silence and the way Jinyoung pats him comfortingly down his back.

It’s only when the heaving of Jihoon’s chest comes to a gentle slow, and he’s no longer hiccuping and the tears have come to a stop, that Jinyoung begins to speak his mind. He pulls away from Jihoon, and his hands are placed back on Jihoon’s, and he looks into Jihoon’s eyes, and Jihoon can see the concern and sincerity in them.

“Hyung, we both know that Park Woojin and us are from different walks of life,” Jinyoung begins. “We’re  _ different,  _ and hyung, you can’t just expect him to be like us.”

“Yes, he is in the wrong for thinking that that’s the right way to go about approaching you, but hyung, you have to tell him that it’s not  _ right.  _ If he doesn’t hear that it’s wrong from you, then who’s going to call him out? You can’t just think that he’s going to instinctively know that it’s wrong, when he’s probably been brought up his entire life into thinking that this is the way to approach people.”

Jinyoung’s younger than him, but it feels like Jihoon’s the one being taken care of now. Jihoon understands where Jinyoung is coming from, hears the logic in what Jinyoung is saying; but it’s always two different things to know something and to do something.

“I’m not saying that you’re in the wrong for getting angry. You have every right to be angry and frustrated at Park Woojin—but hyung, you’re also the  _ only  _ person who can point out the rights and the wrongs to him, and teach him the steps on how he can become friends with you, how he can become a better person.”

Jinyoung smiles at him, and Jihoon finds it easier to mask the tears that are escaping from the corner of his eyes by enveloping him into a hug.

“Thank you, Jinyoungie.”

“You’re welcome, hyung. I hope it helped.”

“It did. It really did.”

 

—

 

The next time Jihoon gets to see Woojin is during one of their fansigns.

Jihoon likes fansigns. It’s one of the few opportunities where he gets to interact with their fans, understand what are the parts of them that the fans like, and what they don’t like—so that they know what they should do, and what they shouldn’t do. He knows that the fans spend lots of money trying to get into the fansigns, and he tries his best to repay them by looking into every one of his fans’ cameras, making poses and trying to express with his gaze, “Thank you for supporting me.”

He’s wearing another rabbit headband on his ears and he makes some cute poses while waiting for the next fan to come over to him. He hears the camera shutters go off rhythmically. There isn’t a break to them, and it’s the only thing that resonates in the large hall apart from the conversation that the fans have with the members.

But the sound of the camera shutters is broken when the doors of the hall open with a large bang. Jihoon has a feeling that it’s Park Woojin, and his instincts prove him right when Woojin saunters in with two bodyguards trailing after him.

Perhaps, he finally caught the memo of dressing casually when it comes to attending idol events, because he isn’t wearing dress shirt and pants anymore. He’s wearing a casual shirt, dark jeans and sneakers. It still has a vague tinge of smart casual to it, but at least, the sneakers make him look less formal.

He walks down the aisle of fans, where the fans are murmuring, “Who is that?”, “Is he a new trainee or something? God, he  _ is  _ good looking.” 

Jihoon watches some of the fans turn their cameras to take several pictures of the newcomer, of Park Woojin instead of them. He wants to roll his eyes at his fans: if only they knew who he was—but he doesn’t, and instead, he pouts at his fansites who look back at him guiltily.    


Woojin skips past the queue of the fans, and he heads straight for Seongwoo-hyung, who’s sitting at the front of the table and his bodyguard hands him a single album so that he can get them signed.

Jihoon finds it hard to concentrate on the fans that are before Woojin’s turn. It’s the first time that they are meeting after Jinyoung’s talk, and after they had the Incident backstage—and Jihoon doesn’t quite know what to expect.

“Oppa! Are you listening to me?” the fan in front of him pouts, waving her hands in front of him to catch his attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Jihoon presses his hands together, to make a sign of apology. He tries to defend him as he sees the pout, “I was just thinking of how beautiful my fans are.”

Apparently, it does work because the pout fades away, to be replaced by a faint pink blush that dusts the fans cheeks. He answers the post-it on the album, asking him to for words of encouragement when she’s having a hard time. 

He writes it down, and he winks at her as the staff says that her time is up, “Read it only when you get back to your seat, okay?”

Her blush darkens and she nods hastily before heading off to the next member.

“Why haven’t you been wearing any of the clothes I sent you?” Woojin asks, even before he enters Jihoon’s field of vision.

Well, at least, that saved him from having to be the one to start the conversation.

Jihoon slams his pen down softly, and sighs, “You know... when you say things like that, you don’t make things right by sending them gifts.”   
  
He looks straight into Woojin’s eyes, who only looks confused at whatever Jihoon’s saying. “You admit your wrongs and apologise for them.”

“What’s wrong with sending gifts?” Woojin questions as Jihoon’s flipping through the album to sign it, to make the fansign proceed on as if nothing different is happening.

Jihoon sighs. He feels the rage budding from within him, but he remembers the calmness of Jinyoung’s words, and it seems to do the job of quelling the raging fire. “Normal people don’t buy each other gifts to make up for their mistakes. You don’t have to shove your wealth into my face. You can do that with words: admit your wrong, apologise for them; and make sure that you bolster it with your actions.”

“I’m not saying that I expect you to treat me differently from how you’ve been used to treating people. I’m saying that you don’t have to treat me to lavish gifts, or shove the signs of your wealth into my face if you want to be my friend.”

Woojin doesn’t respond, but he looks like he’s being overwhelmed by the words that Jihoon had just said to him. Jihoon finishes signing his album in seconds, and he notions for Woojin to move on.

“You should move on to the next member, Woojin.”

 

—

 

Several days later, Jihoon gets a message as they are travelling down to their next schedule, with photos attached to it:

> **From: Park Woojin**   
>  Proof shot!  
>    
> 

 

There’s another message sent to him even before he can reply to the first, and when Jihoon opens it, it has Park Woojin’s name printed on top of the list of people who won slots to their fansign.

> **From: Park Woojin** **  
> ** See you at your fansign later!

There’s something within Jihoon that reminds him that Woojin’s showing off his wealth to him  _ again,  _ but there’s something different about the way that he’s doing it. Perhaps, it’s the bulk buying of the albums that not only helps him, but the rest of the members as well. Perhaps, it’s how it doesn’t feel like he’s buying  _ him  _ off with his money. But there’s something about the way Woojin sends him these messages, that it brings a smile to his face, that it gives him hope that  _ hey,  _ they could really become friends.

And he finds it easy to act like they  _ are  _ friends, and to include some of usual snarky self into his reply to Woojin:

> **To: Park Woojin  
>  ** who are you? why do you have my number? are you a sasaeng fan?
> 
> **From: Park Woojin  
>  ** Isn’t this Park Jihoon’s number???
> 
> **To: Park Woojin  
> ** i’m kidding.   
>    
>  **To: Park Woojin  
>  ** thank you.
> 
> **To: Park Woojin  
>  ** but what are you going to do with all these albums?

He doesn’t realise that he’s been smiling at his phone, not until Guanlin’s prodding at his side and asking, “Jihoon-hyung, why are you smiling at your phone?”

“I’m  _ not  _ smiling at my phone!” Jihoon defends, locking his phone.

Guanlin rolls his eyes, but Jinyoung’s looking at him from the other side, “I’m happy for you.”

Jinyoung doesn’t have to elaborate and Jihoon nods in understanding, in gratitude for Jinyoung. After all, if it weren’t for him, things would have remained stagnant between he and Woojin, and they would never have progressed to a somewhat, civil relationship. From his other side, he senses the way Guanlin’s confused by what Jinyoung says and he tries to ask, “What’s going on? Tell me, tell me!”

Jihoon ignores him as he feels a vibration and he switches on his phone again as Jinyoung tries to get Guanlin off their back.

> **From: Park Woojin** **  
> ** I guess everyone in the office will be receiving a copy of Wanna One’s debut album on their desks tomorrow morning! :-)
> 
>  

—

 

Woojin attends each and every one of their fansigns for the rest of their promotional periods. Jihoon can’t help but wonder how many staff there are in Naver, for Woojin to be able to say that he’s still able to distribute a single copy of their album to everyone in the office. But there’s just something about seeing Woojin in the sea of the fans waiting for their turn at the fansign, talking to the rest of the fans, that makes the warmth spread within Jihoon’s heart, and he finds the seeds of  _ their  _ friendship blossoming.

Jihoon goes on enough social media networks to know that the fans are talking about a particular Jihoon fanboy, who dresses like a  _ chaebol _ ’s son (even though he  _ is, _ but Jihoon guesses, the fans don’t know it) and how cute it is, that he attends every fansign religiously.

It’s the last fansign of their promotional period, and it’s when the hyungs turn on the pouts and highlight their sadness at how they wouldn’t be able to see their fans for a long time. 

“I’ll miss you so much,” Jihoon adds with a small pout. He sees Woojin grin at that while the rest of the fans are mirroring sad expressions. What an ass.

It’s only when it’s Woojin’s turn to get Jihoon’s sign that Jihoon notices the large, bulky DSLR camera that is hanging down from his neck.

Jihoon raises a single eyebrow as Woojin slides the album over to Jihoon. “When did you get that?”

“I figured that I should get a camera for myself to take pictures of my  _ favourite  _ member,” Woojin grins. “You did tell me to  _ take a picture, it lasts longer,  _ didn’t you?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes at the memory, as he writes down Woojin’s name and signs on his page in the album. He does remember saying that as a joke, but he never quite expected that Woojin would actually follow through with it. 

“So how’s the experience of being a  _ fansite _ ?” Jihoon jokes.

“It’s fun, honestly,” Woojin teases, patting his DSLR lightly. “You should check out my fansite. I’ll link it you.”

Jihoon can’t actually believe that Woojin has a fansite for him. But as he comes to know more about Woojin, he finds that there are many sides of him that he doesn’t know—and a part of him wants to peel all those layers, and reveal a part of him that only Jihoon would know.

It’s nice for the seeds of understanding to grow between them, that Jihoon finds himself knowing that Woojin isn’t all about the pompous asshole he thought of him to be. As they interact with each other during the tiny moments at fansigns, Jihoon finds himself to actually,  _ enjoy  _ Woojin’s company. It’s easy for friendly banter to be shared between them, and it makes his heart swell in happiness.

“Alright, I hope that you  _ did  _ manage to get some good shots,” Jihoon smiles at him, and he closes the photobook to pass it back to Woojin. “At least you’ve stopped using flash.”

“Excuse me,” Woojin huffs, but he’s extending his hand forward so that he can get a high-five with Jihoon. “Photos with flash is the new  _ in  _ thing. It’s very aesthetic.”

“Sure, sure,” Jihoon laughs, and he’s interlocking their fingers together as their hands meet for a high five. He tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat at the contact, as he reminds himself that it’s what he does with  _ any  _ fan of his. “I’ll see you next time.”

“See you again soon.”

 

—

 

It’s strange that it has been weeks since Jihoon last got to see Woojin. Perhaps, it’s because their fansigns for this promotional period has come to an end, that it prevents an avenue for them to meet from arising. But Jihoon  _ knows  _ Woojin, knows how he has the means and ways of making situations where they meet to occur, and he finds it strange that he hasn’t gotten a single text message, call or even meeting, with Park Woojin for the past few months.

It doesn’t go to to say that Wanna One hasn’t been busy. They have been busy with preparations for their overseas fan meetings while discussing the concept for their next album, but there’s still a tinge of bitterness in Jihoon’s heart as he’s hovering over Woojin’s fansite for him,  _ fou d’amour _ . Jihoon wants to roll his eyes at the pretentious French, as he remembers how terrible their first dinner together had went—but somewhere along the lines, he starts finding out that it’s  _ cute _ , even though he has no fucking idea what the French words mean. 

He could just Naver search for the translation, but he wants to know what it means from Woojin himself, but Woojin just tells him to “go and learn French.” And it makes Jihoon huff, because how is he even supposed to have time to learn French?

But perhaps, he  _ should _ , because it will give him a reason for him to talk to Woojin without making him look like he’s actively searching for Woojin.

“Hyung, why don’t you just find him at his office?” Jinyoung interrupts his thoughts, as he’s lying down on his bed, staring at the Twitter homepage. The photographs uploaded look pretty, capturing precious moments at fansigns that others don’t get the opportunity to see for themselves. Jihoon’s genuinely surprised at the skill for the composition of the photos, and the filters that Woojin chooses that brings out the best of his features. His eyes hover over the bottom left of the photo, where a carefully designed logo sits:

_ Fou d’amour,  _ it taunts.

“Isn’t it weird for me to head down to his office?” Jihoon blinks. “I mean, I’m not like a businessman or anything, would they even let me in?”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jinyoung reassures. 

Jihoon doesn’t know where Jinyoung’s getting his confidence from. But he thinks of how Woojin has always been the one to approach him, to take the first leap of faith. Friendship isn’t a one-way street, it involves both him and Park Woojin; and he thinks, that it’s only right for him to take a step forward as well.

They do have a free day for the rest of the afternoon, so Jihoon sits up in his bed and starts to pick out the nicer clothes that he has. His eyes rest on the black bag of clothes that have been sitting at the corner of the room for the past few weeks, and it’s Jinyoung who gives him the final push that he needs: “Go for it, hyung.”

Jihoon takes a deep exhale before he opens the black bag, and it takes him several moments to pick out the less flashy clothes, the clothes that don’t make him feel like he’s some walking advertisement for a luxury brand.

He eventually settles for a white dress shirt and patterned pants, and he hopes that the Balenciaga sneakers that are covering his feet would be telling enough to let him enter the office later.

“Fighting, hyung!” Jinyoung grins, raising his hands to form the “Fighting!” sign.

“Thanks, Jinyoungie,” Jihoon smiles back, making sure to pull Jinyoung into a hug before he leaves the dormitory with his manager.

  
  
  
  
  


Jihoon never knew that Naver Corporation is housed outside of Seoul, until it’s been several hours later before he arrives at the Green Factory. It’s huge and tall. It’s intimidating, and Jihoon feels his knees turning jelly at the daunting sight of the building. It’s strange how a building alone is able to make him feel like this, but he reminds himself of the clothes he’s wearing, and how it took him  _ hours  _ to get here, and he steps into the building with his manager leading the way.

It’s almost too easy how they let him into the building, up the elevator to Woojin’s floor. (What the fuck, he has a floor to himself?) But when he gets off the elevator, he’s greeted by music that’s all too familiar to him. It’s Energetic that’s playing, and Jihoon finds himself feeling confused. Aren’t corporate buildings supposed to be silent, or playing some variation of classical music?

When he steps into the office itself, Woojin’s talking to the receptionist, in the glory of his black suit, white dress shirt and formal black tie. Jihoon had took the extra effort to dress nicer, but there’s just something in the air that makes his Balenciaga sneakers look cheap, that he’s wearing it for the sake of wanting to elevate his own status, but it doesn’t change who he is inherently.

“Oh?” Woojin’s the first to recognise that he’s in the office, and there’s a glimmer of happiness that shines through the jet black of his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Jihoon feels his heart skip a beat at the recognition, at the way Woojin visibly brightens up with his presence. ““Are you sure  _ this _ is office material? Shouldn’t you be playing like, I don't know, classical music or something?"

Woojin breaks into a grin, as he notions to the receptionist that he’ll be away for a moment, and he walks over to Jihoon. He nods to Jihoon’s manager, who’s behind him and Jihoon finds himself being whisked out of the office, “Shh, let the staff appreciate the music.”

Jihoon scoffs, but the edges of his lips are being tugged up into a smile as he can’t help the happiness at the fact that their music being played inside Naver Corporation’s office. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m their boss, so they can’t say anything,” Woojin smirks. Then, he looks straight into Jihoon’s eyes, “What are you doing here, though? Is something wrong?”

Jihoon finds it hard to say the words that he wants to say. He doesn’t actually know how to say why he’s standing here, in front of Woojin even though his heart is telling him of his emotions, of the feelings that he should say (but can’t say).

But he takes a deep breath, and he knows that he ought to say the words. Things don’t happen just because you want them to happen, but they happen because you do something to make them happen. 

“I guess, I just missed your ugly face.”

Woojin probably doesn’t expect the words to come out from Jihoon’s mouth, and he just looks shocked for a moment before he’s pulling Jihoon into a hug. It’s a little awkward, but warm and gentle, and it reminds Jihoon of thick hoodies and woolen scarves in winter. He finds himself melting into Woojin’s embrace as the thick, invisible threads of friendship slowly wrap around them.

“I guess I missed you too, Jihoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  "Your lobster bisque is turning cold."
> 
> —
> 
>   
> Inspired by the conspiracy theory that Woojin is actually the son of a rich family. I hope you'll embark on this journey of The Slowest of Slowburns and Pain, of my first chaptered fic ever, lol.
> 
> Photo in the middle is also by [jaehwaneowon](https://twitter.com/jaehwaneowon). Thank you for letting me use it for my selfish reasons.


	2. Chapter Two

They end up at a nearby coffeeshop.

Jihoon isn’t sure how it happened and how Woojin is able to head out even while he’s supposedly working. Woojin just gives him a grin, tugs at his hand while waving at his manager, “Please give us time to be alone, preferably, an hour or so. I’ll be sure to return him. You don’t have to worry.”

Jihoon tries not to think too much about the grip that’s on his arm, of how Woojin’s whisking him away from his manager without even waiting for a reply. It reminds him of who and  _ what  _ Woojin is: someone who’s always able to get what he wants, and does everything with that conscious knowledge. 

They settle at the coffee shop across the building. It’s slightly cheaper than the coffee that he usually gets in Seoul, but he figures that it’s because they aren’t exactly in the city district right now. But there’s something homely about the cafe’s wooden furniture, and the scent of coffee that smells comforting, like warm blankets on rainy days.

“What would you like?” Woojin asks as Jihoon stares at the counter for a moment. He was never the type to like coffee, but his body has gotten used to the lifestyle of being an idol, he found that he needed the caffeine to run through his veins, and he slowly got used to the lingering bitterness of coffee.

But there’s no need for Jihoon to stay awake. Not today, at least. So he lets a gentle smile tug up at the sides of his lips, “Hot chocolate, please.”

Woojin laughs softly for a moment. Jihoon doesn’t know why, but he stills for a moment. The laughter resonates in his head, and he finds his own heart clenching at the seemingly unguarded moment—a time where it feels like he’s looking at a Park Woojin that’s so raw at the edges, that he’s never seen before and he doesn’t quite know what to do.

“I don’t know why, but that just seems very  _ you _ ,” Woojin says, and he’s motioning for Jihoon to grab a seat while he makes the order. 

Jihoon doesn’t stay long enough to hear what Woojin orders. He can’t get the thought of Woojin’s laughter out of his head; and as his heart clenches tightly, he finds it beating faster against his chest. It’s vaguely uncomfortable, and Jihoon doesn’t know what to do. So he figures that it’s better to take steps away from where Woojin is, and perhaps, he could get those  _ several  _ seconds of being alone before Woojin’s back.

  
  
  
  
  


“So,  you missed me, huh?” Woojin asks, taking a sip out of his cup of coffee.

Jihoon blinks, hands settling on the paper cup as if it could do something to warm up his vocal nodes, to let the words escape more easily. He remembers how they had hugged in the lobby of Woojin’s office, and the thought of it makes the heat within him grow, and he feels the tips of his ears turning red.

“Yeah,” Jihoon admits. It’s still hard for him to be honest with himself, much more, to be honest with Woojin, but if he’s already taken the first step forward by coming down to meet Woojin, then it wouldn’t hurt to take the next step too. “It’s been awhile since I last saw you.”

“It has,” Woojin nods in agreement. “I wanted to see you but work stopped me from doing so.”

“Work?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow, taking a sip of hot chocolate, as if it could help to wash down his nerves.

“Yeah,” Woojin grins at him, fingers dancing lightly on the mug. “I’ve been planning more overseas fan-meetings for Wanna One. You’re popular, after all.”

Woojin continues to elaborate on what he’s been doing, of drafting proposals, arranging with the necessary contacts before he’s able to submit his proposals to the higher-ups for approval. It’s the first time that Woojin’s divulging in something about himself, about what he does, when all that has happened so far, is Woojin’s interest in Jihoon and the idol activities that Jihoon partakes in. It’s a brand new perspective that Jihoon’s forced in, but he finds it hard to concentrate on that; for the very fact that Wanna One’s going overseas is still resonating in his head. 

He knows that Wanna One’s popular, but it’s always different domestically and internationally. Jihoon knows that they have been invited for KCON and several overseas fan-meetings have been arranged, but more? That’s just  _ another  _ ball game.

Jihoon doesn’t quite realise that he’s spacing out, the words that Woojin’s muttering floating through his head, and it’s Woojin’s laughter that breaks his trail of thoughts. “You’re cute.”

“What,” Jihoon deadpans.

Woojin’s grin only widens, and a snaggletooth peeks out from the side of his mouth. It’s strange how Jihoon’s breath hitches at that. He never knew that Woojin had a snaggletooth, and there’s something about it that makes Woojin look more charming than Jihoon has ever seen him. But the very fact that Jihoon sees the snaggletooth makes his heart grow warm, at the thought and the possibility of how Woojin laughs so unguardedly in front of him, without restraint and so bashfully.

“You  _ are  _ cute,” Woojin reiterates. “I didn’t think that you’d be so happy at the mention of overseas fan-meetings.”

Jihoon huffs slightly. “Overseas fan-meetings mean  _ a lot _ , you know.”

And Jihoon’s voice is softer when he says, “I never thought that I’d ever reach this place.”

He isn’t lying. It’s apt how it almost feels like his knee injury is aching, is acting up again as he thinks of the could-have-beens, of ASTRO and NCT. Giving up was an option that was so close to him, but something within him told of stories of perseverance and determination, and it just feels so surreal that he had pushed himself through the tough days, and now, he’s standing right in front of possibilities of better days.

“Well,” Woojin muses for a moment, and there’s a thoughtful look in his eyes, almost like he’s trying to understand Jihoon’s perspective, to slot himself into Jihoon’s smaller shoes and think of what he could say in this situation. “I think that it’s what you rightfully deserve. It isn’t because I’m Naver’s son that I’m saying this, but I’ve seen how you’ve improved from the beginning. And I think that Wanna One, and  _ you _ , deserve all of this. And I’ll do my best to make sure that you get the opportunities that should come your way,” Woojin adds with a final grin. He picks up the cup that’s been lying untouched on the table, and he finishes it in quick, successive gulps.

Jihoon looks at his own cup of hot chocolate, and he picks it up to finish the rest of it. It’s lukewarm, from the minutes that have passed since it was made. But as he drinks it, his heart feels warmer than it did before.

“The hour’s up,” Woojin says, standing up from his seat and looking at his watch. “I’ve got to bring you home.”

“More like, my manager is,” Jihoon retorts.

Woojin laughs.

And Jihoon wonders if this is what friendship is.

 

—

 

The summer air is thick and humid, and the wind that brushes against Jihoon’s cheek is reminder of the stifling heat. But there’s something calming about the serenity, of the quiet that pervades the balcony, and it feels like he’s being whisked away to a private world of only  _ him _ , despite him being able to hear Sungwoon-hyung and Jaehwan-hyung’s notorious laughter from inside, where they are probably ruining a home-cooked dinner (and they would eventually order takeout anyway).

“So, how did it go, hyung?” Jinyoung’s voice resounds from behind him as he approaches Jihoon, settling down in the chair next to his.

It’s hard to explain what had happened. Nothing groundbreaking had exactly occurred between them, but it also feels like there was something between them that had changed so much, that it doesn’t feel like  _ they  _ are the same anymore.

But Woojin feels more like a friend than a stranger, that Jihoon’s beginning to understand and come to know him beyond Naver Corporation’s Park Woojin, and he hopes that he’s on the same wavelength in thinking that they are walking down the path of friendship now.

“I guess,” Jihoon doesn’t look at Jinyoung, and he’s looking straight at the buildings that are lying in front of them. He’s vaguely reminded by the different sceneries that he and Woojin would see, but he brushes the thought away from his mind. “It went well.”

“That’s good,” Jihoon doesn’t need to look at Jinyoung to know that he’s smiling.

But he does turn to look at Jinyoung now, and he extends his body forward, to pull Jinyoung into a hug. Jihoon’s bad with putting his emotions into words, and it always finds itself being choked up in his throat whenever he wants them to come out, but he knows that actions speak louder than words, so he hopes that his sincerity gets translated into the hug.

“Thank you for being here, Jinyoung-ah,” Jihoon says.

“I’ll always be here to help you, hyung,” Jinyoung reassures when Jihoon pulls back away from the hug. 

Jinyoung’s younger than he is, but his eyes sparkle with maturity—and Jihoon feels blessed, thankful that he has a Jinyoung who’s there for him, to hold his hand as he threads on a path where he doesn’t know what to expect. Insecurity makes him feel like he’s dangling on a thin thread, but Jinyoung’s there, a hand extended, telling him:  _ grab on, I’m here _ .

“In fact,  _ we _ are all here for you,” Jinyoung nudges his head towards the living room, where the rest of the members are fooling around. Guanlin and Daehwi are lying on the couch while Seongwoo-hyung’s giving bad impersonations of the show that they are watching. Daniel-hyung’s probably sleeping in his room, and Minhyun-hyung’s probably checking up on Jaehwan-hyung and Sungwoon-hyung in the kitchen. It’s a mess, if Jihoon were to be honest, but there’s something homely about it that it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“I know that it’s hard to open up to people, and to people who you may not completely feel comfortable with,” Jinyoung continues, hand reaching out to hold Jihoon’s own. There’s nothing romantic about the action, and instead, Jihoon can feel the comfort and warmth that seeps into his skin through the hand holding. “But we’re all on your side.”

_ Yeah _ .

Produce 101 allowed Jihoon to bond with some of the members, but not everyone; and he can’t say that he’s equally close to some of the members as he’s close to Jinyoung. But friendships take time to build and foster, just like with Woojin. And Jihoon trusts in time and effort, so he squeezes Jinyoung’s hand in his, and smiles, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Thank you.”

 

—

 

It’s hard for Woojin and Jihoon to meet each other easily, now that Wanna One’s official schedules have mostly ended, and Wanna One’s preparing for the wave of their overseas fan meetings. They settle for text messages, and it becomes a rhythm that Jihoon slowly finds himself assimilating. He learns to anticipate Woojin’s snarky text messages, of sneaky lines sent under meeting tables and witty one-liners as he sits at the back of his car. Jihoon finds himself smiling at his phone more often than he realises and it’s Woojin’s text messages that he begins to look forward to receiving.

Jihoon remembers the look of shock and surprise on the members’ faces when the staff first announces all the places that they would be going, and it takes a lot out of him to act like he hadn’t heard of the news before.

“It just feels so  _ surreal _ ,” Daehwi admits, staring blankly at the space in front of him.

Beside him, Jinyoung’s holding onto Daehwi’s hand, and Jihoon watches Jinyoung squeeze it. Jihoon knows how to read people, knows what the squeeze means—and it’s different from how it was when Jinyoung held his own. Actions really do speak louder than words, Jihoon realises, and he can’t help but let the smile be tugged onto his lips.

“I know,” Jisung-hyung adds, from where he had been drinking some water, and he settles to hug Daehwi from his other side. Behind them, Daniel-hyung’s helping Guanlin with a certain aspect of the choreography, and the main vocal hyungs are practicing their high notes. “We have to do well.”

Jihoon nods, but he feels a lump beginning to grow within his throat. “Yeah, we do.”

  
  
  
  
  


The pressure only increases as the days tick away, and it gets announced slowly that the fan meetings get sold out, and there is going to be an additional night of performance in Taiwan. Jihoon remembers how Guanlin had clutched onto his arm, in happiness and pride, and Jihoon had patted him on the back.

It’s good news, really, for both them and the company; but it also means that the weight of Wanna One grows bigger on his shoulders, and Jihoon finds himself wanting to practice more, more and  _ more _ , so that he’s perfect, so that he’s able to perform a stage that he would be satisfied with. 

He’s his own worst critic, but as he’s swimming in the pool of his own self-expectations, and it’s Woojin’s sudden appearance in the dance studio that binds him back to reality.

Woojin saunters into the dance studio, but it’s unlike the previous times where he carried an air of pomposity and arrogance. Perhaps, it’s the way he’s dressed in a more simple, black dress shirt, dark pants, and Converse high tops that helps to break the  _ chaebol _ image, and he walks over to Jihoon, tugs on his wrist so that Jihoon gets the message to follow after him.

The hyungs don’t say anything, but Jihoon trails after him. It’s when they are alone, outside the dance studio that Woojin grins at him sloppily, and he says, “Missed me?”

Jihoon pretends to muse for a moment. His heart says yes, but what escapes from his mouth is, “Your ugly face?  _ No way _ !”

“I know you’re lying,” Woojin rolls his eyes. “Anyway, we’re going for dinner tonight.”

He knows that Woojin isn’t saying it consciously or intentionally, but there’s something about his words that brings back memories of how their first  _ outing  _ together had gone, when all Jihoon knew about Woojin was his arrogance. 

Perhaps, he’s treading on dangerous waters, but he had never really been the type to keep low, so he questions, “ _ We? _ ”

Woojin turns back from where he was walking down the corridor, and there’s a soft smile that creeps onto his face. Jihoon tries to ignore the way his heart is racing in his chest. 

“Yes,  _ we,”  _ Woojin acknowledges. There’s a look in his eyes that Jihoon can’t quite put a name on, and Jihoon watches the way Woojin gulps before he continues: “This time, you  _ do  _ have a choice. Want to go?”

Woojin extends his hand, but the shakiness of his fingers betray him.

It’s a leap of faith, of hope and expectations.

And Jihoon takes Woojin’s hand.

  
  
  
  
  


They don’t end up at some fancy French restaurant this time.

It’s a surprise to Jihoon when Woojin’s chauffeur drops them off at the side of the Hangang. Jihoon would never have thought that Woojin would like for them to be at a spot that’s so open, that anyone in the world could be sitting right next to them, or looking at them, and thinking:  _ hey, isn’t that Park Jihoon? Who’s the person sitting next to him _ ?

Jihoon remembers the monsters that used to crawl underneath his bed, and he wonders if they evolved to become what’s known as the media today. 

When Jihoon steps out of the car, the wind hits his cheeks. It’s a little chilly, considering that it’s still September, but it reminds him of the days where he sat outside, at the balcony, staring at the infinities beyond him. Woojin’s walking two steps faster than Jihoon does, already trying to find flat ground for them to settle on.

There’s something nice about being at the Hangang at 2am in the morning. There are less people than Jihoon would have expected , but maybe, it’s also because they were dropped off at one of the more quiet, more secluded spots along the lengthy river. Jihoon can hear the soft sounds of the river crashing against the shore, of the distant sounds of cars and life but what he focuses on is how he’s sitting right here, next to Park Woojin, and his heart’s pounding loudly in his ears.

“What do you want to eat?” Woojin asks, fingers tapping on his phone.

“It’s 2 am,” Jihoon deadpans. He knows that South Korea thrives on its delivery culture, but it’s 2am and he has his own responsibilities as an idol.

“If you’re with me,” Woojin says. His voice is steely, and the way he brings his phone down to his lap to stare straight into Jihoon’s eyes make Jihoon feel like  _ everything  _ about him is being exposed, that Woojin is seeing through the layers that he had made to protect him, to defend himself. “You’re going to be eating more than just cherry tomatoes.”

Jihoon feels his stomach churning, and he’s not quite sure if it’s from the hunger or if it’s from the warmth that permeates in Woojin’s words. “I know, but I  _ can’t _ .”

Woojin huffs, crossing his arms. “I’m exercising my powers as son of Naver Corporation, Chief of Wanna One’s promotions here.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Jihoon laughs. But it looks like a pout is forming on Woojin’s face. It’s strange. But Jihoon wants it to remain like  _ this _ . “But alright, fine. Only because it’s you.”

“You’re right,” Woojin grins. “It’s because it’s  _ me _ .”

Then, he’s tapping away at his phone, and Jihoon finds it easy to tune out Woojin’s voice as he’s getting food for the both of them.

it almost feels like they are the only two people in this vast world outside. He feels all the stress and worries from before dissipate like it’s nothing, and Jihoon’s reminded of how everything that seemed so big and suffocating in the past eventually gets crushed into smithereens, into nothing more than just memories of the past, that allowed him to become who he is today. 

He never quite realised that he needed this time to himself, a time for him to be alone with his thoughts, a time away from the hustle of idol life. And there’s something about being here with Park Woojin that makes Jihoon feel like he can peel away the layers, and let himself be who he is, without putting up the fronts that he’s tired of putting on.

“You alright there?”

“Um, yeah,” Jihoon says, almost too quickly, almost too defensively. But Woojin’s looking at him, and his fingers are dancing lightly against the soft of his palm, almost touching but straying. 

It’s almost too easy for him to be honest when he’s with Woojin.

“I guess, I needed some time away from the  _ whole  _ idol thing,” Jihoon doesn’t know how but the words are forming, and as he says the words, he feels the weight that’s been placed over his heart being lifted; and it feels like it has become easier to breathe.

“Don’t we all need breaks?” Woojin replies. 

There’s something in Woojin’s voice that makes him sound more vulnerable than Jihoon’s used to. And when Jihoon looks at Woojin, he’s not looking at him, but at the river that’s in front them, watching the same scenery that Jihoon can see.

“I guess, we both needed a break from what we had to do,” Jihoon muses, adding a chuckle at the end. 

Woojin turns to smile at him. “Yeah, we do.”

If it were several weeks back, Jihoon would never have imagined that he’d be holding a conversation like this with Woojin. He wonders how different things would have been if he never took the first step forward, to try to get to know the Woojin beyond Naver’s son, Park Woojin. 

Jihoon never knew that he was seeking for companionship, not until Woojin came to be by his side, and Jihoon starts to feel comforted with Woojin’s sheer presence. 

  
  
  
  
  


It’s minutes later when the food arrives in front of them.

“McDonalds?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow.

Woojin just grins at him, shrugging his shoulders as he takes the food out of the paper carrier left behind by the delivery man. “I was craving for nuggets.”

“I thought you’d be a Big Mac kinda’ person,” Jihoon muses, poking the straws into the drinks. 

It’s been years since he last touched McDonalds, never finding the craving to eat it after abstaining from it for so long. But now that the burger’s sitting right in front of him, and he can smell the salt from the fries, and taste the sweetness of the soda on his tongue, Jihoon thinks:  _ fuck his diet _ .

“Nuggets are always the way go, alright?” Woojin explains, dipping the nuggets into the current seasonal sauce. “Wow, the mustard’s pretty good.”

“Really?” 

Jihoon finds himself grabbing a piece, dipping into the container. It  _ is  _ good, the way there’s a subtle sour spiciness that adds a kick to the meat. But Jihoon’s not quite sure if it’s because McDonalds  _ is  _ good, or it’s because he hadn’t eaten in for so long. 

“I wasn’t sure what to get for you but you feel like a McSpicy kinda’ guy,” Woojin explains as Jihoon opens the box.

“I don’t really have a preference, I guess,” Jihoon muses. But he’s taking the burger out of the paper box, the smell of pepper wafting through his senses, and it makes his stomach churn in blissful delight. He balances the burger precariously in his hands, and when he takes a bite out of the burger, he relishes in the way it melts against his tongue—and it’s just seconds later, when he finds that there’s nothing left on his hands, and the burger sits in the deepest corners of his body.

“That was fast,” Woojin laughs, when Jihoon pouts at how there’s nothing left and he’s grabbing for the Coke, so that he can bite at the straw. But Jihoon doesn’t quite expect the next moment:

Woojin extends his hand, the one that’s holding the nugget and raises it to Jihoon’s mouth, “Say _ aah _ .”

Jihoon gulps, and it’s awkward for a moment until he does open his mouth for Woojin to feed him. A satisfied smile hops onto Woojin’s face then, and Jihoon finds the heat rushing to his cheeks, and he hopes that it’s dark enough that Woojin doesn’t see the redness of his face.

Comfortable silence washes upon them as they take slow moments to finish up the rest of the fries and nuggets, and it’s Woojin who breaks the silence, “This is really nice.”

“It is,” Jihoon admits.

“I didn’t think that we’d be able to click like this, really,” Woojin says. They aren’t looking at each other, but at the waters in front of them, as if the flow of the water makes it easier for the words hidden beneath them to escape.

“Did you know, I have a younger sister?”

Jihoon blinks. The internal affairs of Naver Corporation were usually kept private, and to be honest, Jihoon didn’t even know that Park Woojin existed until he walked into their meeting room that fateful day. He shakes his head, expecting Woojin to sigh but instead, a bittersweet smile finds its way up onto his face.

“That’s good.”

“Why?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow in genuine confusion.

“I didn’t want her to be exposed to any of these company politics,” Woojin admits. His hands are clasped together in front of him, resting on his lap, and there’s something about the way he’s crouching forward that makes him look smaller than Jihoon has ever seen. 

It’s strange how it seems to ignite a sense of protectiveness within him, that all Jihoon wants to do is to wrap his arms to envelop Woojin in a hug as if it could make all the problems and the worries that he has, bundled up within him disappear.

“It’s a shitty world out there and I didn’t want her to be part of this,” Woojin continues, after he takes a huge breath. “I’m just… happy… in a way. That you don’t know about her, so it means that she can continue living the life that she wants to, as Park Yerim. And not Naver Corporation’s Park Yerim.”

But there’s something about Woojin’s words that leave a sour taste in Jihoon’s mouth and he’s sure that it’s not from the lingering taste of fast food.

“But are  _ you _ leading the life that you  _ want _ ?”

Jihoon turns to look at Woojin at this moment, and he watches the way the emotions and feelings show on Woojin’s face; the way his eyebrows scrunch together at the very words, and the way the sense of realisation and sadness dawns upon him—and they all show in his eyes.

And Jihoon finds himself extending his hand, reaching out to interlock his fingers in Woojin’s so that he can squeeze their hands together in reassurance.

Jihoon hears the way Woojin takes a deep breath, and feels the way his palm turns clammy with sweat.

“I guess… It isn’t,” Woojin admits. And there’s a bitter chuckle that follows. “But it’s not like I can do anything about this.”

Jihoon bites at his lower lip. It’s the bitter truth that they are all aware of, and there’s a part of Jihoon that wishes that he had the right words, like how Jisung-hyung always knows what to say when they are all in need of that tiny bit of reassurance and confidence. But he’s Park Jihoon, and not Yoon Jisung, so he settles for what he thinks he can do best at.

He wraps his arms around Woojin, pressing Woojin’s face into the juncture between his shoulder and neck; and he says, “It’s a shitty reality, but I guess, I can be here for you.”

He feels the way Woojin laughs against his shoulder, “You’re suffocating me, you piece of shit.”

Jihoon huffs, pulling away from Woojin. “You’re rude. I was trying to be kind.”

And Woojin’s holding onto both of his hands, and Jihoon sees the sincerity that lies behind those eyes.

“Thank you.”

 

—

 

> **To: Park Woojin  
> ** you haven’t told me what  _ fou d’amour  _ means
> 
> **From: Park Woojin  
> ** I told you, learn French ;)
> 
> **To: Park Woojin  
> ** rude  
>  do i look like i have the time to learn french, you pretentious butt
> 
> **From: Park Woojin  
> ** ;)
> 
>  

Today, they have a fansign for Innisfree, after finishing their fanmeet in Singapore as well as  KCON Australia. A part of Jihoon wishes that Woojin would be here today. It’s a been a while since Jihoon last saw Woojin at one of their official promotions, and while Jihoon relishes in the moments where it’s only them, he kind of misses seeing the clumsy DSLR movements that produce good shots (Jihoon likes to think it’s because of his beautiful face.)

The fans have taken to putting down their names in front of their cameras, so that they know where to focus on, to make eye contact with the camera so that the fansites can upload flattering images of them online.

Jihoon makes sure to look at all of his fansites whenever he can, and he tries his best to track all of them whenever he gets some time to go online. Just Holic, Butterfly Kiss, Fluffy Boy—Jihoon recognises them all, and he makes sure to smile at their cameras.

But there’s a camera that sticks out even without the nametags, and Jihoon can’t bring himself to look at the lenses, not when his heart is beating so loudly against his chest. He finds himself trying to shift his focus away from Park Woojin, away from  _ fou d’amour _ -nim as he looks into the lenses of the other fansites instead. But it’s hard to do so when Park Woojin commands his attention, draws him in like a bee to a flower and it isn’t even because Woojin’s a male, sitting in the sea of women. 

And Jihoon can’t help the flush from creeping onto his face when Woojin inches closer to him. He’s only a member away, and Jihoon tries to distract himself with the fan in front of him as he leans in closer so that she can press a sticker onto his cheek.

“Thank you for coming,” Jihoon says, as he feels the staff tapping on his shoulder. “I hope that you’ll come again!”

“I will, oppa!” She smiles, extending her hand so that Jihoon can clasp it them together for a brief moment.

And when he turns back to his front, Woojin’s grinning at him and Jihoon feels his knees turning into jelly. That damn smile. And who said that he could wear a white dress shirt today?

“Hello, dumbass,” Jihoon’s surprised that the words do escape the tip of his tongue, and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of their usual banter even though he feels that butterflies are growing within his stomach.

“That’s not how you should be addressing your fansite master, Jihoonie,” Woojin teases, raising his DSLR for added emphasis. Jihoon pouts, but he’s taking the album into his hand, signing it.

He doesn’t notice the moment when Woojin reaches into the front pocket of his dress pants, but when Jihoon’s done signing, and he looks up, Woojin’s dangling something in front of his eyes.

“For you,” Woojin says simply.

_ Huh?  _ Jihoon blinks at him. “What’s this?”

“A bracelet,” Woojin explains, and he slides the silver across the table, so that it’s by Jihoon’s wrist. When he does so, there’s also a glimpse of silver that Jihoon can see on Woojin’s own wrist and it makes Jihoon’s heart skip a beat.

Since when were they on “matching bracelets” terms?

If his face was already flushed, it probably just got even redder. He knows that he shouldn’t be taking so long to talk to Woojin, but it’s Park Woojin; and it’s not like the staff can do anything in front of him anyway, so he musters all the courage that lies within him and he looks at Woojin through his eyelashes and asks, “Put it on for me?”

Woojin chuckles, “Since you asked so nicely.”

Woojin’s touch is soft and gentle, but it feels like fire dancing along the edges of his skin. Jihoon can hear the way the camera shutters go off in the background, the chatters that are shared between the other members and the fans—but everything is mere background noise, and he can only focus on the way Woojin’s eyes are glazed in seriousness, concentrating on linking the bracelet together, across his wrist. 

“There you go,” Woojin says with a smile. “I hope you like it.”

The silver is cold against his skin, and a part of Jihoon wonders how he must look like now. When he raises his hands to cover his flaming face slightly, he feels the way the rabbit charm dangles and briefly hits the side of his wrist.

“Can I say that I don’t?” Jihoon teases.

“No, you can’t,” Woojin huffs, crossing his arms together. “Because it’s a present from me to you.”

And Woojin’s the one who makes the notion to move on to the next member. He extends his hand forward so that Jihoon can clasp them together. Jihoon tries not to focus on the way Woojin’s touch lingers like a burn, even after he’s walking away.

  
  
  
  
  


When the fansign ends, Wanna One’s whisked back home so that they can get a few hours of shut eye before they have to record for Music Core the next morning. They usually take off the presents from the fans as they leave the venue, putting them in boxes that would be shipped back to YMC.

But Jihoon doesn’t take off the bracelet, and Jinyoung’s the first one to point it out, “That’s cute.”

Jihoon doesn’t need to take a look at where Jinyoung is looking at to know what he’s talking about. Silver is light, but the bracelet feels like a heavy weight on his wrist. He reaches to touch the silver chain and the rabbit charm that sits slightly towards the end of the bracelet. 

“Yeah,” Jihoon admits. “I really like it.”

There’s an unreadable expression that spreads all over Jinyoung’s eyes, together with a smile that tugs on his lips. “It was nice of Woojin-hyung to get you something.”

“Woojin- _ hyung _ ?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Jinyoung grins, leaning into the seat in the van. Daehwi’s already knocked out by Jinyoung’s side, and the other members are engaged in their own conversation. “He texted me to ask me what you’d like.”

Jihoon feels his face heating up, and he can’t quite find the right words to say so he settles with “Oh.”

Jinyoung laughs. “Good to know that it worked out well.”

Jihoon nods, and he turns his gaze away from Jinyoung to look at his phone, in hopes that it’s a sign that Jihoon doesn’t really want to continue the conversation. He scrolls on Twitter absent-mindedly, knowing that his fansites would already have started to post the previews of the fansigns on Twitter.

And he feels his heart stop for a moment when his eyes latch onto a photo of him waving to a fan, the sleeve of his hoodie sliding down slightly to reveal the bracelet.

 

> **fou d’amour @foudamour_jh**
> 
> 171001 Innisfree Fansign  
>  #Park Jihoon #Wanna One
> 
> How long is forever?  
> Sometimes, just a second.

 

— 

 

They get a free day (that means no official schedules) before they fly to Taiwan. But everyone knows that free days aren’t  _ really  _ free days, and Wanna One’s expected to be engaged in practice or to get some rest before they fly to Taiwan tomorrow.

Jihoon’s at the dance studio, with the rest of the maknae line, wanting to go through some of the performances together to perfect the choreography that’s already ingrained in their minds, in their bodies. A part of him wishes that he wasn’t such a perfectionist, but dancing helps to him to take his mind off  _ fou d’amour  _ and the complexities of Park Woojin as it makes him feel like he’s whisked off to a different world.

Jihoon’s phone rings when they are an hour into the dance practice. Guanlin looks thankful at the sound of the phone, and Jihoon thinks that he’s glad for the brief break that he gets.

> **Park Woojin is calling…**

What?

Why would Woojin be calling him at this moment?

They always text each other, but they have never called each other. Texting begins to feel like safe space, where he gets to look through whatever Woojin has texted him and look through his own responses before he replies Woojin. But calling is different. It means listening to Woojin’s voice being projected right by his ear, and there’s the instancy of calling that makes Jihoon nervous and unsure of what to do, of what to say.

But Jihoon walks out of the dance studio and slides his finger across the phone as he closes the door behind him.

“How can I help you, Mr. Park?” Jihoon says.

“You’re free today, right?” Woojin replies. It’s just as Jihoon had feared. Woojin’s voice is deep and piercing as he presses his phone against ear, and it almost feels like Woojin’s whispering right into his ear, attacking him in all the right spots and Jihoon doesn’t quite know how to defend himself.

Jihoon takes a deep breath, as if it could help to calm his beating heart, and he manages to reply, “Yeah. I’m practicing with some of the members now.”

“Okay, good,” Woojin says. A part of Jihoon wishes that Woojin’s in front of him, and not just a phone call away because he wants to be able to see the way Woojin’s face contorts as he talks. “Because I’m coming to pick you up now.”

“Huh?” Jihoon blinks.

“We’re going on a business date. I’ll be here in ten.”

_ What. _

  
  
  
  
  


They’re both in Woojin’s chauffeured car, after Woojin had dropped by the YMC dance studio and picked him up. The members didn’t bat a single eyelash when Jihoon told him that he’s leaving with Woojin, and it’s Jinyoung that gives a teasing smile, “Have fun.”

Jihoon would have thought that  _ business dates  _ mean awkward formal business affairs, but Woojin’s dressed casually, the most casual that he has ever seen him—in a white button up, blue sweater and dark jeans, and Jihoon doesn’t quite know how to react to seeing him dressed this way. Woojin does look good in formal wear, but there’s just something about being able to see him dressed casually, that tears away the  _ chaebol  _ layers and leaves behind Park Woojin. 

But he’s surprised when Woojin tells him, “We’re headed to the LINE cafe in Itaewon.”

"You know, that's a popular spot with teenagers, right?" Jihoon raises a single eyebrow, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down. Summer’s fading away with the chilly winds, and Jihoon finds himself pulling on thicker hoodies. “I’d get found out in an instant.”

"And whose popular with teenagers?" Woojin grins. " _ You _ . So you’d be raising sales for me as you attract people to the store!”

“You are terrible," Jihoon sighs. And then, he pretends to fall over dramatically in the car. "I can't believe that my own company is exploiting me, and so are  _ you _ ."

"Well, you could always think of it as a date, if it helps. The cafe's a date spot, after all. That's how it was planned to be."

Jihoon tries to ignore the way his heart races, and he’s thinking of a way to reply to Woojin, to pretend that the word  _ date  _ doesn’t hang so heavily over his heart, when Woojin extends his hand to hold Jihoon’s, interlocking their fingers together (and Jihoon can’t help but notice the way Woojin’s massive, fat fingers fit so perfectly between his own smaller ones. It feels like they shouldn’t fit, but their hands are like missing puzzle pieces that were meant for each other.)

“It’ll be fine,” Woojin promises, squeezing his hand in his. “I’ll be here with you.”

Jihoon thinks of how the the hyungs (except Minhyun-hyung) had always tried to escape from the hotel rooms whenever they were overseas, wanting to get a glimpse of the country they were at. But they would come back running to their rooms minutes later, after the stream of fangirls come chasing after them.

But it's also Park Woojin.

And Jihoon trusts him.

  
  
  
  
  


The LINE store is huge, much bigger than he had expected. There’s three floors to the building located down at Itaewon, and Jihoon can’t help but let the childish wonder bubble up within him as he steps into the store after Woojin, and his eyes land on the huge Brown figure that’s located at the front of the store.

“Wow,” Jihoon gasps. “That’s really huge.”

“Yeah,” Woojin grins, pausing to stand next to jihoon. His hands are in the pockets of his pants, and Jihoon’s quite surprised that none of the staff are crowding around him. They seem unaware of the fact that Woojin, their boss, is in the store, and rather, they go around doing their own activities, attending to the queries of customers while replenishing stock.

But Jihoon recognises that there are  _ really  _ a lot of people around them, and he can’t help but tug the mask higher above his nose, in hopes that no one would be able to recognise him. There’s something chilling about this, that he’s in such a crowded space but no one has recognised him (yet). 

“Let’s walk around,” Woojin suggests. 

It’s strange how Woojin waits for him before he walks away, and they take the same steps forward. Their hands brush against each other’s, beckoning for Jihoon to grab hold of it, but he swallows down the urge with the gulp and he tries to focus on the display of stationery, toys, and electronic accessories. 

And the more he stares at Brown, there’s something that whispers to Jihoon that the bear resembles Woojin. His eyes focus on a single item, a plush of Brown wearing a dinosaur suit, and he can’t help but pick it up and prod Woojin’s side, “He looks like you.”

Woojin takes the toy from Jihoon’s grasp, and he places it by his face, and tries to make the same expression as Brown. Jihoon can’t help but let the laugh escape from his lips, and he tries to ignore the thought that strays onto his mind, that tells him of how it really  _ does  _ resemble a date.

“I’m more handsome than Brown,” Woojin states plainly. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You wish.”

Woojin huffs and Jihoon watches the way Woojin scans their surroundings. “Hm, they should have the Cony version of this, though.”

“Why?” Jihoon questions. 

Woojin shrugs. “Cony’s cute like you, so, it’d be nice if we could grab something together from the store. For memory’s sake.”

Jihoon blinks at Woojin’s words. He wonders if he’s overthinking Woojin’s words, but it’s hard for him to think that Woojin’s being smooth, being flirty with him when it feels like they are walking down the path of friendship together, and Jihoon’s afraid of crossing the boundaries.

The suggestion  _ does  _ sound nice though, and Jihoon thinks that he’d like to have something to keep for remembrance’s sake, of the time that he spent here at the LINE Store, of being able to spend time as a  _ normal  _ human who’s out to have fun for the day and not just being trapped in the confines of the dance studio.

The toy of Brown in the pig costume does catch his eye as he remembers the times where the hyungs teased him by calling him a  _ pig _ , so he takes it out from where it’s lying at the display and takes the Brown in Woojin’s hand into his own.

“I’m buying this for us,” Jihoon explains, when Woojin blinks at him in confusion.

“I could get this for us for free,” Woojin replies.

“It’s not about the money,” Jihoon says, making his way to the counter. It isn’t expensive or anything like what Woojin had gifted him, and it reminds Jihoon of how they come from different worlds; but he thinks of the memories that they’ll be spending  _ together  _ here, and Jihoon thinks that he shouldn’t really care about it. “I just want to buy it for us.”

Woojin smiles at him despite his surprise. It’s soft at the edges, and Jihoon wants to see  _ this  _ smile for a long time to come.

“That’d be 32, 000 won,” the cashier says. She doesn’t look up from where she’s packing the plushies into a single bag.

“Ah, you don’t have to give me a bag,” Jihoon says, as he fishes out for the notes.

“Sure, no problem,” she nods in acknowledgement and Jihoon makes the payment. 

He throws the toy over to Woojin when he’s paid for the merchandise, and Jihoon hastily clips the toy onto the belt loops of his jeans, for the lack of a better place to put the toy. 

Woojin grins at that, “You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Jihoon returns the smile. “I try my best.”

“You don’t have to try,” Woojin replies, and he’s squeezing the face of his plush. “You’re naturally cute.”

Jihoon feels his face heat up, and he looks down at the floor while mumbling out a “Thanks.”

“I should be the one thanking you for helping to boost the stores’ sales!” Woojin teases.

Jihoon huffs. “You’re the worst!”

They explore the rest of the building, going up to the upper levels. The second floor is filled with clothing, accessories, and home living goods and there’s a cafe at the top level. The decoration is really well done, Jihoon concludes, as it really does serve the purpose of it being a LINE Store, and there’s a whole range of merchandise that would appeal to people of all ages. 

Woojin nods in approval, as they climb down the stairs. “There’s a constant stream of people. Not bad.”

“But they do not have Cony plushies in animal suits, so I’d have to complain about that,” Woojin continues, only to make Jihoon roll his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Jihoon wonders if they’re headed of to anywhere else after this, and he stares at the huge-ass Brown mascot. There’s a small line that’s in front of the mascot, and it’s Woojin that pushes him into the line and suggests, “Let’s take a photo together here.”

And Jihoon doesn’t say no to Woojin.

It’s a while to their turn, and Woojin beckons for a staff to help them take a photo together. Jihoon doesn’t quite know why he does it, but perhaps, it’s the very thought that he  _ and  _ Woojin are taking a photo  _ together  _ for the first time, that he pulls down his mask for a moment for the camera and he hears a gasp from around them.

"Isn't that Park Jihoon?"

“Wait,  _ what? _ Wanna One’s Park Jihoon? Where?”

“Park Jihoon?”

The camera goes off, and Jihoon hastily pulls the mask back down.

_ Shit _ .

And Jihoon takes Woojin’s hand and they bolt.

  
  
  
  
  


Jihoon doesn’t know where Woojin’s taking him. They are back in the Woojin’s car, and Jihoon has never quite felt so comforted before, even though he’s in a small, restricted space. He can feel the way his phone is vibrating in his back pocket. A part of him guesses that it’s management that’s trying to contact him, for the news of him being at the LINE store must surely have erupted on social media.

But it’s bothering him, and he takes it out of his back pocket, only for Woojin to take it off Jihoon’s hands before he can even unlock his phone. 

“You don’t have to worry,” Woojin explains, and he turns off Jihoon’s phone. “I’ll tell YMC that you’re with me.”

Jihoon feels his heart growing warm, swelling up at Woojin’s actions. It could’ve come across to be somewhat, asshole-ly, but there’s something about the way that Woojin forces him to be disconnected from his phone, from social media that makes Jihoon feel protected, and feel Woojin’s care and concern that seeps through. 

And Woojin’s hand is on his own, resting on the middle seat of the car and Jihoon finds comfort in this as he gazes out of the window. 

“So where are we headed to?” Jihoon asks, noting that the surroundings start to look more unfamiliar, and there’s a lack of the metallic, tall buildings that he’s used to seeing in Seoul. Instead, there’s lots of greenery and vast plains that he hasn’t seen for a very long time. 

“It’s a  _ secret _ ,” Woojin replies, the teasing smile dancing on the tips of his lips. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes as he huffs, crossing his arms and leaning back into the soft leather seats. “You’re stupid.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Woojin justifies. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Really?”

“Have I brought you to anywhere that I think you’d hate?” 

Jihoon bites at his lower lip as he thinks of the French restaurant, but the food  _ was  _ good. He knows that Woojin only harbours good intentions for him, and it was  _ him _ , himself that made the experience as terrible as it was. He thinks of the Hangang River, and the LINE cafe and he can’t remember the last time he’d felt so  _ happy. _

“No,” Jihoon admits. 

“Yeah,” Woojin replies, a soft smile on his face. 

“You’ll like it, I’m sure.” 

Jihoon feels his heart clench from the rawness of the sincerity layered in his voice. 

  
  
  
  
  


Jihoon doesn’t actually realise when he had nodded off, but he feels a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. It’s gentle but strong, and he can hear Woojin’s voice that sounds so far away, “Wake up, Jihoonie. We’re here.”

“Nn?” It’s hard for him to open his eyes when his eyelids feel so heavy with sleep. 

“If you don’t wake up now, I’ll kiss you.”

Wait,  _ what _ ?

But Jihoon finds himself jolting awake as his eyes widen to take a look at Woojin, to see the face of a man who said  _ that  _ to him. Perhaps, it’s a hilarious sight to Woojin, considering how quickly Jihoon had sat up straight in his seat because he’s laughing, mouth open and snaggletooth showing. 

“Stop laughing, you shit,” Jihoon pouts. 

But Woojin doesn’t stop laughing, and it takes him a while to calm down. “You’re  _ too  _ cute.”

“Shut up,” Jihoon groans. 

“Alright, alright. Good that I was able to wake you up, princess,” Woojin says. “Now, let’s get out.” 

_ Princess,  _ what even. Jihoon wants to shoot a retort at Woojin, but Woojin’s already climbing out of the chair, a servant opening the door for him from where Jihoon can see from inside the car. He hears the door from his side of the car open, and when he steps out, he tries not to gasp aloud at the sight of his surroundings. 

They are definitely at the outskirts of Seoul. There aren’t much signs of industrialisation around seeing how what surrounds them are green plains of untouched nature, and Jihoon can smell the freshness of the air. There’s a single building that that greets Jihoon, and it looks like an apartment building that’s straight out of a movie. 

It’s almost like the whole building is made of glass, from the way the sunlight is reflected off the glass windows. But Jihoon can see the gaps of black that tell him that it isn’t made  _ entirely  _ of glass, and that it’s a proper, legitimate structure. It reeks of money and wealth—daunting and Jihoon’s afraid to even step  _ in. _

“What are you waiting for?” Woojin grins at him. 

Jihoon turns to look at Woojin and squints at him. 

“Alright,  _ alright,  _ princess. I’ll lead the way then,” Woojin says, a hand extended in Jihoon’s direction.

Jihoon hates the way Woojin resembles a fucking knightly prince, and most importantly, the way his heart is beating so quickly at Woojin’s mannerisms. 

He takes Woojin’s hand with a large inhale, and as if his heart wasn’t already beating quickly enough, it gets even  _ worse  _ as Woojin takes his hand up to his lips, and presses a soft kiss against his knuckles. 

Jihoon feels a familiar heat growing within him, and he tries not let the swirling emotions within his stomach get to him. He takes an even deeper breath than before as Woojin holds his hand and leads him into the building. 

He expects to be greeted by the smell of money, of luxury, but when Jihoon steps into the building, he sees a ball of fur running straight for him and when Jihoon looks down at his feet, he sees a white poodle that’s nosing at his jeans-clad legs. 

“Oh my god,” Jihoon finds himself whispering, words coming out of his mouth before he can process it. It comes on instinctively, and he lets go of Woojin’s hand so that he can crouch down, and press his hand onto the poodle’s head, and Jihoon coos when the puppy barks in delight. “So cute, so fluffy.” 

It’s strange how Woojin doesn’t react immediately, and when Jihoon looks up in curiosity, there’s a certain expression of confusion but yet, happiness in his eyes. 

“That’s strange. Choco usually hates everyone,” Woojin mumbles, scratching at the back of his head. Jihoon blinks at that, at the revelation that the puppy is Woojin’s, and at what he says. 

“Oh?” Jihoon finds himself murmuring. 

But Woojin’s also crouching down so that he’s level with Choco and Choco ignores Woojin in favour of curling around Jihoon’s legs. 

Jihoon tries not to laugh at this, at how Choco is ignoring her owner for Jihoon. And Jihoon decides to rub it in Woojin’s face, picking her up so that he can hug her a little closer to him, and press a kiss onto the top of her head.

“Good that Choco knows who is the superior Park,” Jihoon says as Woojin huffs in exasperation.

“Bad dog,” Woojin glares at Choco. Jihoon wonders if it was meant to be intimidating, because Woojin just reminds him of a sad child who lost his favourite toy. 

Choco barks, as if protesting against her owner’s comments. Woojin clears his throat, and he looks at Jihoon, “You already probably know it, but, welcome to my house.”

And it’s only now that Jihoon realises that he’s sitting at the corridor of Woojin’s house, playing with his dog. It’s almost too easy for him to feel so settled and comfortable in this foreign environment, and he remembers how painfully shy he had been when Produce 101 had just started, and he was made to stay in a room filled with six other strangers. 

But Woojin’s house feels warm and inviting, nothing quite like the iciness of how it looks like on the outside. Jihoon places Choco back on the floor, where she barks and runs into the house, and that’s what prompts Woojin and Jihoon to walk in. 

To say that Woojin’s house is huge is an understatement. It looks like one of those ideal apartments that Jihoon reads about in magazines: high ceilings, white washed walls and minimalist furniture. There’s two floors, and the second floor only occupies half of the building, and Jihoon can see the staircase that sits to the side of the building. 

There are paintings that are hung up at corners of the living room, together with car models, and random dance posters that don’t quite seem to fit with the general theme of the room. The disconnected dance posters make something go off within Jihoon, as he turns to look at Woojin, “You like to dance?”

“Yeah,” Woojin replies, scratching the side of his face, and there’s an awfully bashful expression that starts to show on his face. “I love dancing, actually.”

It’s the first time that Jihoon’s hearing about this side to Woojin, and he finds himself at a loss. He can’t seem to find the right words to say as he struggles to put a word to the emotions that are swirling within him: confusion at how Woojin’s sharing such a  _ personal  _ side to him, that Jihoon’s sure that many don’t know; at how unexpected it seems that Woojin likes dancing—and how the distance that seemed to make them seem like they’re travelling on different paths, being parallel lines that would never meet, seem to be coming together to form a road that’s headed for the same direction. 

“But you know, I can’t dance as I want to,” Woojin says, staring blankly at the posters. There’s a hint of bitterness, of sadness that Jihoon can detect in his voice, and Jihoon wonders if Woojin had been able to vocalise any of these thoughts to anyone else; and he finds that a part of him wishes that he’s the  _ only  _ one to know this side of Woojin. He wants to be  _ special _ . 

And Jihoon remembers the night by Hangang, of how Woojin had told him about his sister and Jihoon finds himself reaching out to envelop Woojin into a hug.

He doesn’t say anything, but perhaps, he doesn’t need to; because Woojin’s hugging him back and he murmurs a soft, “Thank you, Jihoonie.”

  
  
  
  
  


They end up ordering Chinese takeout for dinner as Jihoon declares that Woojin does  _ not  _ have a childhood after Woojin reveals that he has never watched Harry Potter before. 

“Blasphemy,” Jihoon declares, as he takes the remote in Woojin’s hand to swipe through Netflix so that he can try finding Harry Potter. 

“Hey! I’m not the type to watch Western movies, okay,” Woojin huffs, clutching a pillow closer to his chest. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “But Harry Potter is a  _ classic.” _

Woojin ignores him, reaches into the popcorn bowl to throw a piece at Jihoon. Jihoon scowls as he feels the sweet snack hit him.

“Stop wasting food, stupid,” Jihoon scolds. 

And the familiar music of Harry Potter starts to resonate in the otherwise empty building, and they find themselves drawn to the television screen instead. Choco had hopped over to where Jihoon was sitting on Woojin’s sofa and curled up at his side. 

He wonders if he’s thinking too much about how they are right now; sitting down in Woojin’s apartment that seems too big for the two of them (much more, Woojin alone), watching a movie together while eating pizza and popcorn and Choco curling by his side. It screams  _ domesticity  _ at Jihoon and Jihoon finds it easier to swallow his thoughts as he sips on the cup of coke. 

Jihoon almost forgets that he’s supposed to fly to Taiwan in a few hours as he relishes in the hours that tick away, in the comfort of Woojin’s company.

 

—

 

Jihoon loves his fans, he really does. But as time passes, he starts feeling suffocated by all the love that people pour all over him. He’s always thankful for the fans that have supported him, so that he’s able to stand where he’s at today, but sometimes, when  _ shit  _ like this happens, he thinks that there’s a need to draw the lines between fans and personal space. 

“Jihoonie,” the fan says, a heavy-looking carrier in her hands. “I got this for you.” 

Jihoon blinks as he pats his wet hands on the denim of his jeans. He knows that he should be grateful for whatever his fans get for him, that they are spending their money on him, but the weight of the price tag, of the GUCCI carrier bag weighs heavily in his mind, and Jihoon finds it hard to accept it. 

“Jihoonie, won’t you take it,  _ please _ ?” 

He knows that she’s turning up the sadness in her voice, in hopes that it’ll guilt trip him into accepting the gift. 

And Jihoon hates this. He hates how he has to put on his facade as the perfect, sweet Jeojang Jihoon even when he knows that this fan shouldn't even be called a fan, but rather, a damn  _ sasaeng. _

Her friend who’s standing by her side adds, “Yeah, she really wanted to give this to you. Please accept it.”

“Um,” Jihoon tries to look around for someone who could help him with his predicament, but his managers not members are nowhere in sight, and he curses at how he had excused himself to the washroom while they headed to the departure gates.

So he doesn’t expect the voice to resound by him from behind, “What’s happening?”

Jihoon whips his head back at the familiar voice: the voice that is laced with steeliness and strength, of authority. The girls step back for a moment as Woojin steps next to Jihoon. 

He’s dressed in a velvet blue suit, and it looks tailored perfectly to him. Jihoon vaguely remembers seeing that tie from some sort of luxury brand, and he’s sure that the bag that’s by Woojin’s side probably costs more than whatever is in the hands of the fans.

“Are they bothering you, Jihoon?” Woojin asks. He’s chosen to drop the  _ Jihoonie  _ now, and there’s a tone of authority in Woojin’s voice that makes Jihoon’s knees feel weak. 

“Um,” Jihoon wonders if he should be honest about them, but a part of him feels  _ bad _ if he were to say anything, in front of the people who supposedly, are fans of him. 

But Jihoon doesn’t need to say more, because Woojin’s moving faster than he can speak; and Jihoon wonders if it’s because Woojin can detect his blatant discomfort at the two girls. He brushes their hands away, and he says, “Please don’t bother Jihoon. He’s clearly uncomfortable, and he doesn’t need any of  _ these _ .”

His hands land on the paper carrier, and there’s an unsaid “I can do better than  _ that” _ , that hangs in the air. And Woojin’s turning to walk away, and he says, “Come on, Jihoon.” 

Jihoon trails after Woojin, and he doesn’t look back. He hastens his speed slightly so that he can catch up with Woojin. When he does, their hands brush against each other, and Jihoon wishes that he could grab onto them, grab onto the string of hope and comfort. 

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon asks. 

Woojin shrugs, but there’s a knowing smirk on his face that makes Jihoon want to roll his eyes. At that, Woojin chuckles softly and he explains, “I’m here for  _ work purposes _ , of course.” 

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at that. “Work purposes?”

“Yeah,” Woojin grins, smug. “I’m  _ supposed _ to take a look at the LINE Store in Taiwan, but I also wanted to watch one of your overseas fan meetings, to see how you’re doing.” 

Jihoon tries not to focus on the second half of Woojin’s words, so he looks down at the carpeted ground, and tries to stop the flush from rising onto his face. “You’re ridiculous.” 

And Woojin glances around them, and suddenly there are fingers that are threading through his hair as Woojin pets his hair. “Only because it’s you.”

A moment of awkward silence watches onto them, as Jihoon can’t think of how he should react at the intimate contact. His heart is beating faster than what he’s comfortable with, and it threatens to leap out of his throat. But as he’s listening to the sound of his heartbeat, Woojin’s fingers have left his hair and they are only a few more steps to the departure gate.

He sees the members inside. Guanlin waves at him when Jihoon enters his line of vision, and Woojin says, “Let’s go in.”

  
  
  
  
  


They fly business class to Taiwan. Jihoon settles into his own seat, finding it easy to relax with the wide legroom that they are entitled to. He expects a member by his side, but when he turns around, it isn’t any of them, and instead it’s Park Woojin’s face staring back at him.

“You look surprised,” Woojin grins.

“Um,” Jihoon blinks. The blanket’s sliding of his knees but Woojin catches it before it falls onto the ground. “Shouldn’t you be in like, I don’t know, First Class or something?”

“I should,” Woojin agrees. “But there isn’t a  _ you  _ in First Class, so I’m here.”

Jihoon wonders how Woojin’s able to say all these words so easily and nonchalantly, as Jihoon watches how Woojin simply buckles up while Jihoon’s fumbling for the right words.

There’s a simple hand rest that separates them both, and Jihoon watches the way Woojin’s hands are tapping against the side of it. It’s so easy for Jihoon to slide his own hands across, but he feels the weight of invisible eyes on top of him, and he clenches his hand around the blanket that’s covering him. And it makes him wonder: why is it that they’re sitting next to each other, yet it feels like they are miles apart?

  
  
  
  
  


They land in Taiwan several hours later, and Woojin’s hand brushes against Jihoon’s slightly when they stand up to alight from the plane.

“I’ll see you later,  _ princess _ .”

  
  
  
  
  


Woojin’s words weigh heavily at the back of his mind even as he’s rehearsing and even as he’s performing on stage, in front of the Taiwanese fans. He can’t help but gasp in surprise and shock at the fan support that they have prepared for them, and he wonders how Guanlin feels: to be able to receive so much love and warmth from the country that he was born in.

The concert goes well, as expected, and Guanlin’s family take them out for dinner, at a local restaurant where they swear that “Guanlin  _ loves  _ everything here.” Jihoon doesn’t know the name of the dishes, but they melt against his tongue; and Jihoon wonders if the warmth that spreads within him is because of the food, or the familial love that he feels like he’s being showered in.

It brings a smile onto his face as Guanlin makes sure that everyone gets a piece of every dish, and he tries his best to explain every dish to them, as if it’d make the food taste better if they knew what it was made of.

But the adrenaline starts to fade away when they reach their hotel room. Jihoon’s sharing a room with Guanlin, who insisted on sharing a room with his  _ favourite hyung.  _ And the staff had relented, considering that it  _ is  _ Taiwan, and Guanlin calls the shots here.

There’s a residual itch that tempts him to play some games before the tiredness seeps into his bones, but he’s interrupted when the doorbell to their room rings.

“I’ll answer it, hyung!” Guanlin says cheerily, and Jihoon can feel the happiness in his voice. He doesn’t look up from his laptop, but he’s forced to do so when Guanlin says with a giggle, “Hyung, you have a visitor.”

“Nn?” Jihoon looks up from his laptop, to where the door of their room is.

And he finds his heart skipping a beat when he sees the familiar tanned face, the damn smirk that’s almost  _ always _ , resting on his features.

“Missed me?”

Jihoon scoffs, but he’s pulling the headphones off his ears and making his way to the door. Guanlin tries to stifle his giggles, but he fails and before he walks back to his bed, he whispers, “Jihoonie-hyung, there are a couple of nice parks nearby!”

Jihoon squints at Guanlin, who runs back to his bed and proceeds to jump onto it. Jihoon tries not to roll his eyes at that, and instead, shifts his gaze onto Park Woojin, who’s leaning against the doorframe. And Jihoon hates how fucking suave he looks.

“What do you want, stupidface,” Jihoon scowls. 

“To spend time with you,” Woojin says simply. He looks at Jihoon, up and down, before he’s pressing his hands against Jihoon’s back and shoving him lightly into the room. “Get changed, we’re going out.”

“I want to sleep,” Jihoon deadpans. But he’s walking to his suitcase, trying to pick out a cap to press his messy hair down, and a mask to cover up his face. They are in a foreign country, but Jihoon figures that it’s better to be safe than sorry. And he pulls a hoodie over his plain shirt before slipping into a pair of sneakers.

“Don’t tell anyone that I’m sneaking out!” Jihoon calls out to Guanlin, who’s busy scrolling through his phone.

“Okay, hyung,” Guanlin pulls his phone down slightly to give him a thumbs up. “Have fun! Don’t forget what I told you!”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and staring at Woojin, who only looks amused at what’s happening in front of him. 

“Let’s go, stupidface.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Why do you even have pizza,” Jihoon stares at the boxes of pizza that’s sitting on the benches of the park that Woojin had led them to.

“Magic,” Woojin winks at him.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ steal my signature,” Jihoon glares at Woojin, who only laughs and pulls him closer to the bench, so that they can sit down and enjoy the food. A part of Jihoon thinks that Woojin had probably got his minions to grab the pizza, but he realises that he doesn’t really want to care about the small details. Instead, he opens the box, and finds the smell of the sinful food wafting through his senses, and the sight of the cheese makes his stomach growl.

He wishes that he had a stronger self control, so that his self-imposed diet actually works, but it’s hard to say no when the food’s in front of him. And he doesn’t actually eat much, except when he’s with Woojin. So, Jihoon takes a piece of the cheese pizza, and eats it.

“How’s the pizza?” Woojin asks, taking a slice for himself.

“Good,” Jihoon murmurs. It  _ is  _ really good: the way the cheese stretches easily, and the way the tomato sauce blends in together with the rest of the ingredients. 

“That’s good,” Woojin grins, before taking a bite of the pizza himself.

They are in a park in the middle of Taipei, not that Jihoon knows where they  _ actually  _ are. It’s just as Guanlin said: the park’s really nice. They are sitting in the middle of the park, where it overlooks a river. It reminds him vaguely of the Hangang, of how Woojin had first whisked him away for his schedule, but unlike then, it’s more humid in Taiwan. 

They both eat their pizza as Woojin recounts to Jihoon of what he had to do for the day. Previously, Jihoon would have found himself feeling bored from listening to what Woojin does, but he finds that after visiting the LINE Store together with him, Woojin actually really does work hard at what he does. While they seem to be different people who are walking down different paths, he sees a thread of similarity at how they both  _ do  _ work hard at what they have to do.

He feels the wind picking up, and hears the sound of the leaves rustling, of children’s laughter, and of the waters crashing against the shore in the background. It’s peaceful, and Jihoon looks up into the night sky, but it’s a blanket of darkness and Jihoon finds himself saying, “It’s sad how you can’t see the stars tonight.”

Woojin raises an eyebrow at that, but he turns up to look at the sky as well. “It’s probably from all the light pollution.”

“That’s sad,” Jihoon replies.

“Yeah,” Woojin agrees, bringing the pizza slice that’s resting in his hands down onto the pizza box. “We could go and see the stars together sometime.” 

Jihoon whips his head back to look at Woojin. “What?”

“We could watch the stars together, one day. I think it’d be nice,” Woojin repeats.

And Jihoon feels his heart beating quickly within his chest at that. It sounds like an invitation for a date, and there’s something about the way Woojin suggests it: so easily and smoothly, that it makes Jihoon feel like they are more than just friends. It doesn’t sound like words that friends would say with each other, and Jihoon wishes that he could be gifted with the ability to read minds, because all he wants to do is to be able to hear what Woojin’s thinking.

Perhaps, it's the fact that they are overseas, in a foreign land where most wouldn’t know  _ who  _ they are. It isn’t South Korea where the weight of the paparazzi and  _ sasaeng  _ fans weigh at the back of his mind. It isn’t South Korea where the language is familiarity, and he can’t help but find himself tuning into the conversations that are held in the background.

Because Jihoon takes a deep breath, and he extends his hand, past the pizza boxes so that he can interlace their (albeit, oily) fingers together.

It still blows his mind away—the way the gaps between their fingers fit against each other’s so perfectly. He never thought that hand holding could be so precious, could be a moment that haunts his mind for a long time to come, but it’s Woojin, and ever since Jihoon has known Woojin, he’s only been exposed to parts of life that he never thought that he’d be able to see.

When he turns to look at Woojin, there’s an unreadable expression of his face. He wonders what Woojin’s thinking as he feels Woojin squeeze his hand, as if wanting them to become closer when they are already so intimately interlocked with each other. 

It’s hard to define what they are, when the lines that have defined them and their relationship have become so blurred. And a part of him wants to make the lines clearer, to put a word to what they are; rather that hovering between love and friendship. It’s hard for Jihoon to deal with it, not when he’s tired of constantly feeling hopeful—that Woojin does like him—while battling the fear that he’s the one overthinking it. 

The weight of the words that Jihoon wants to say lie at the tip of his tongue. But he finds it harder to say them as his heart clenches, clenches around the insecurities and fears that threaten to swallow him up. 

Courage is a fickle thing, and it’s why Jihoon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he picks up another slice of pizza and swallows it down.

  
  
  
  
  


It’s late in the night when Jihoon gets back to the hotel room. They had linked their pinkies as they were on the taxi back to the hotel and Woojin had smiled at him after they sneaked back into Jihoon’s floor, and brought him to his door. 

“I’ll see you soon?” Woojin says, eyes crinkling at the side in a soft smile.

Jihoon tries to ignores the way his heart swells at the smile. He wonders when did he become so conscious of everything that is Park Woojin; and how these small things, that seem so insignificant, have come to matter.

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods. 

Woojin takes a glance around their surroundings, before he takes Jihoon’s hand in his, bringing it to press a kiss on his knuckles. “Don’t miss me too much, princess.”

“I won’t, stupidface,” Jihoon growls. What he means is  _ I will, stupidface _ .

But Woojin’s laughing at him, and Jihoon thinks that Woojin hears the words that lie underneath, anyway.

“Alright, alright, time for you to go to bed. You have another show tomorrow,” Woojin grins, at then, he’s gently bringing Jihoon’s hands back to Jihoon’s side, and waving goodbye at him.

Jihoon presses a hand to his chest and waves goodbye.

He knows that he isn’t going to be able to sleep, though, not when the thoughts of Park Woojin’s haunting Jihoon’s mind. And that’s what makes him bite at his lower lip, and he wanders down the corridor to find Daehwi and Jinyoung’s room. He doesn’t know if Jinyoung’s still awake at this time, but he figures that he’d just try his luck.

He rings the doorbell, and waits for a moment. He’s about to leave where he hears Jinyoung’s voice: “Hang on!” and the rustling of footsteps, before the door opens. Jinyoung’s hair is still wet, and Jihoon figures that he must just have come out of the shower.

“Jihoon-hyung?” Jinyoung looks surprised at Jihoon’s presence.

“Yeah,” Jihoon shifts his weight awkwardly between his two feet, hands clutching onto the edges of his hoodie. “Do you have time now?”

Jinyoung looks back into the room, and Jihoon thinks that he and Daehwi are probably doing the whole “talking with their eyes” thing because Jinyoung smiles, and then he’s closing the door behind him. “What do you want to talk about, hyung?”

Jihoon stiffens, as the knowledge of what he wants to talk to Jinyoung about actually  _ hits  _ him. It’s nothing new that Jihoon doesn’t know of, but it’s always been daunting to talk about things that had always been buried at the back of his mind, and he’s never had to vocalise them into proper, coherent thoughts. He knows that it’s different—to be aware of something, and to actually, say it out.

He finds himself wanting to backtrack, to take two steps back from where he’s finally started to walk down the path of the relationship between Park Jihoon and Park Woojin. He doesn’t realise that he’s thinking too much, too much words and too little coherence—until Jinyoung grounds him down like an anchor. 

Jinyoung places a hand on his shoulder. It’s calming and comforting, like a warm shower after a day’s worth of work. He finds that it’s easier to breathe and Jinyoung suggests, “Shall we head to somewhere else?”

Jihoon nods. He doesn’t really want to talk about it in a corridor, where anyone else could overhear. But they settle for the stairwell, because they can’t go anywhere else in the hotel at this time of the day, and Jihoon thinks, that it honestly isn’t much better. But it’s enclosed, at least.

“Take your time, hyung,” Jinyoung reassures. He grabs onto Jihoon’s hand, and places it on his own thigh where they both sitting on the staircase. It makes it easier to Jihoon to even out his thoughts, his breathing. And suddenly, it doesn’t feel as fearful as how he had thought of it to be.

“Jinyoungie,” Jihoon admits. “I think…”

Jinyoung looks at him expectantly, and Jihoon takes a huge breath. 

“I think I’m in love with Park Woojin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  “I could get this for us for free."


	3. Chapter Three

Jinyoung gives him a look, and there’s a ghost of a smile on his face, as if he had expected Jihoon to say the words from the start.

“I know, hyung,” Jinyoung murmurs. Then, he’s opening his arms wide so that he can engulf Jihoon in a hug.

Jihoon lets himself be enveloped in the smell of Jinyoung, in warm cotton nodes that resemble freshly washed clothes. He feels like the stone that had been weighing down over his heart had finally been lifted, and while there’s something nice about admitting his feelings, Jihoon doesn’t quite know what to do next.

He knows what they are. He knows that he’s Wanna One’s Park Jihoon and Woojin is Naver Corporation’s Park Woojin. They shouldn’t work. There’s hesitation that seeps through him with the thoughts that haunt his mind. They should never work. But the heart always wants what it can’t have, and Jihoon finds himself wanting to be selfish, wanting the raw parts of Woojin to belong only to him. He wants to be special to Park Woojin.

“But I don’t know what I should do,” Jihoon admits.

Jinyoung pulls away from the hug, and he purses his lips together. Jihoon doesn’t know if he’s been _too much_ to Jinyoung, placing an invisible expectation of hoping and wanting Jinyoung to have all the right answers to the questions that he puts forth. He almost forgets that Jinyoung is younger than him. He knows that age has nothing to do with maturity, with the mindsets that one has—but he wonders, if he’s placing a burden that’s too heavy onto Jinyoung’s shoulders.

“I think you should do what your heart tells you do to,” Jinyoung says, after taking a deep breath. He looks up from where he’s been playing with the edges of Jihoon’s fingers, and when he looks into Jihoon’s eyes, there is resolution and sincerity. “I know that you’re hesitating because of who Woojin-hyung is. But I think that if you don’t do what you want to do, you’ll regret it. And I don’t want you to lead a life full of regrets.”

“But, what if I end up regretting confessing to him? What if it doesn’t turn out the way I want it to?” Jihoon questions. It’s all the insecurities that have been whispering to him—the inner demons that he’s been trying to supress the whole time.

“I don’t think we can ever live in a world without regrets, hyung. It’s just a matter of making the decision that leads to _less_ regrets. And I think you know what you want to do.”

He does.

He knows what his heart is _screaming_ at him to do and knows which decision is it that he wants to take. The roads that lie ahead are embedded with thorns rather than flower petals.

And Jihoon wants to be with Park Woojin.

 

—

 

Woojin leaves for Seoul before Jihoon’s done with the second leg of the Taiwan fanmeeting.

Jihoon doesn’t think that Woojin watched the second fanmeeting. But his heart still feels warm when he’s done with the event, and he looks at his phone to see a text message from Woojin. There’s something about it, the words that Woojin had chosen to use that makes Jihoon’s heart stutter. He wishes that it wasn’t like that, that it was easier for him to keep a calm and rational mind whenever it’s about Park Woojin.

**From: Woojin**

hey, sorry.

but i have to go back to seoul earlier than scheduled.

i’m sure you did well for your fanmeeting. you always do well.

I’ll see you soon again, princess.

“A message from Woojin-hyung?” Jinyoung says from behind him.

Jihoon nods, and he feels the tips of his ears turn red. He wonders how stupidly in love he looks to the people around him. “Am I obvious?”

Jinyoung looks at him for a moment before he starts laughing. Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms and leans back in the couch. There’s still several more minutes before Jisung-hyung would be rounding them up, so that they head to the airport together. And Jinyoung places a hand on his shoulder, “Love’s a nice look on you, hyung.”

Jihoon isn’t quite if that’s meant to be a compliment or an insult so he pouts. He decides to ignore Jinyoung, and he replies Woojin instead:

 

> **To: Woojin  
>  ** it’s alright, stupidface.
> 
> **To: Woojin  
>  ** thanks for coming to taiwan together with me.

He doesn’t expect a reply from Woojin to come anytime soon. He’s probably busy with work, if he had to leave Taiwan earlier than he wished. But as he’s shoving his phone back into his pocket after putting on music to play, he feels his phone vibrate.

 

> **From: Woojin  
>  ** it’s only because it’s you, princess.

Goddamnit, Park Woojin, Jihoon thinks.

He really likes him.

It’s several days of rest in between filmings for commercial films before they have their next fan meeting, scheduled in the Philippines.

It’s been days since Jihoon last saw Woojin. It almost makes their time at Taiwan, sitting down in the park in a foreign land and eating pizza while looking at calming waters feel like a dream—a dream that Jihoon would never want to wake up from.

They have been texting. Jihoon learns to look forward to Woojin’s snarky texts that he sends when he’s in the middle of meetings, while he tries his best to pose for the camera as his phone vibrates in his pocket. He feels Minhyun-hyung’s gaze of worry whenever the smile that stretches his face stays for a moment too long whenever he gets a message from Woojin. Jihoon wonders if he looks distracted. All he can think about, now that he’s hit with the realisation and knowledge that he _likes_ Park Woojin, his Park Woojin. All he wants to do is to be with Park Woojin, to see the snaggletoothed grin and to listen to the witty remarks in person.

And he thinks of how Woojin had been the one to ask him out on the dates that they’ve had. It’s probably what possesses him to send him a text, in between waiting for his makeup artist to finish her work.

 

> **To: Woojin  
>  ** are you going to be free one of these days?
> 
> **From: Woojin  
>  ** why?  
>  i think i could do something about it ;)

Jihoon can hear the pounding of his heartbeat—loud and clear—in his ears. He tries to breathe evenly as his fingers shake slightly, making it hard for him to tap on the phone screen and it causes him to make more typos than usual.

 

> **To: Woojin  
>  ** i want to go on a date with you.

It’s after the message gets sent, and Jihoon watches the _Read_ sign slowly appear that he feels the weight of his words. When Woojin doesn’t reply immediately, he wonders if he had been too forward. Maybe he’s being too forward. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe, there isn’t anything for him to be worried about after all, as a vibration comes after he’s about to leave for his turn at filming.

 

> **From: Woojin  
>  ** I’ll see you later, princess.

Fuck _fuck_ fuck.

He can’t help the smile from creeping its way onto his face. It’s already been a good two days, fourteen hours and ten minutes (or so) since Jihoon’s last seen Woojin. Not that he’s been counting. Not that he’s been staring at the clock of his iPhone. Not that he’s been wishing that time could fly past, and Woojin would be waiting for him outside. Because he always knows where he is, even when Jihoon doesn’t tell him anything.

“Are you going somewhere?”

When Jihoon turns back, it’s Minhyun who’s smiling gently at him. Jihoon can see the slight wrinkles in the side of his face, where he can’t mask the concern.

“Yeah,” Jihoon says. He must really be obvious. “I’m meeting Woojin later.”

“Woojin, huh,” Minhyun muses to himself. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can’t seem to find the right words to say what he wants to say.

“Is there something that you want to talk about, hyung?”

Minhyun doesn’t reply him. He’s still deep in his thoughts, and Jihoon wonders if he should prod further. But Minhyun’s shaking his head and then smiles at him. It’s one of those Minhyun-smiles that make Jihoon feel warm all over as it reminds him of his family, of the pats that his dad would give to him before he left for school.

“It’s nothing,” Minhyun smiles at him, extending a hand to pat Jihoon’s head. “I hope you have fun. Did you tell the manager hyungs yet?”

“Oh shit,” Jihoon smacks his forehead at the realisation.

Minhyun only laughs at him, but he says, “It’s okay. I’ll tell them for you.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jihoon grins at him, and he burrows himself into a hug with Minhyun. Hugs with Minhyun are _always_ the best. “You’re the best!”

Minhyun laughs some more, but he’s curling his arms over Jihoon and returning the hug.

 

 

 

It’s after they are done with filming for the day, and they have said all their mandatory greetings to the staff who have worked hard together with them for the entirety of the afternoon, that they get to leave the studio. Jihoon wonders when Woojin’s going to make his appearance, in all pompous glory, but he’s shuffling out of the studio with the rest of the members.

He’s about to climb up onto the van, when he feels an arm reaching out for him from behind. When he turns back, he sees the damn face that he’s missed so much—the tanned skin, the glistening eyes and the cheeky smile.

“You’re here,” Jihoon finds himself breathing out.

Woojin grins at him. The snaggletooth peeks out from the side. Then, Jihoon turns back when he hears Jinyoung say, “We’ll see you later!”

The door to the van shuts, and Jihoon hears the sound of the van driving away from behind. But he doesn’t turn back to look at the van like he normally would, but instead, he focuses solely on the person who’s standing in front of him, Park Woojin.

“Missed me?” Woojin says.

His voice is thick and there’s a slight hoarseness to it. It makes Jihoon scrunch his eyebrows, “Are you sick or something?”

He wonders if he’s pervading Woojin’s personal space as he brings a hand up, brushing away Woojin’s bangs to press his hand against Woojin’s forehead. He has a hand up on his own. Woojin’s forehead doesn’t feel too hot. But the hoarseness in his voice still makes Jihoon worry.

“I’m fine,” Woojin reasons. “I think I just caught a cold or something. But it means that I’ve been spending the past few days out of work.”

“You should have told me that you were sick,” Jihoon huffs.

“I didn’t want you to worry your pretty face for me,” Woojin says, reaching out to brush a stray hair away from where it’s about to stab Jihoon in the eye.

_God._

Jihoon hates how he flushes so easily at Woojin’s words and actions. He hates how his heart stutters so easily whenever it’s Woojin. It’s like he’s back to being in middle school, having first crushes on the beautiful girls in class. He’s reminded of the awkward stutters, of wanting to do more but pulling back, of the tingly nerves. And Woojin’s just grinning at him, like he knows it all.

“You didn’t answer my question, you know,” Woojin reminds him gently. They are both standing in front of the door to the studio, but Jihoon doesn’t see any cars that are around him. Woojin’s chauffeur isn’t here. Jihoon finds himself looking down at the granite floor, shifting his weight awkwardly between his feet.

“Yeah,” Jihoon mumbles. He suddenly feels hyper aware of their distance, of how they are the only two people standing in this vicinity. It feels private, intimate. “I missed you.”

And maybe Woojin doesn’t expect Jihoon’s honesty. Because he doesn’t reply, and when Jihoon looks up in confusion, there’s a swirl of emotions in his eyes that he can’t read. But he sees the faint nodes of happiness in the sparkles, and Jihoon thinks that’s good enough.

When it feels that neither of them are going to say anything, Jihoon thinks that he should change the topic, “Your driver isn’t here today?”

It’s probably a good decision, from the way Woojin slips back to his confident self. “Nope.”

“Why?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow. Woojin doesn’t seem like someone who’d go anywhere without his driver.

“Because _you_ asked me out today,” Woojin says.

Jihoon feels his face heat up at the reminder. “I… did.”

But he’s starkly reminded of how he doesn’t actually have anything planned. All he wanted was to be with Woojin. All he wanted was to be able to see Woojin again. And it makes him realise that they don’t have to be at particular places, they don’t have to be at reserved restaurants. It doesn’t matter where they are. All he needs is Woojin.

He remembers how Woojin has brought him to all the wonderful places: the restaurant, his home, the Han River—and Jihoon thinks that it’s about time that he returns it. He wants to let Woojin have a look, have a taste of _his_ life.

“Do you want to go to the arcade?” Jihoon suggests.

“Arcade?” Woojin raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah it’s where I always hung out when I was still in school,” Jihoon nods. He thinks of how they could probably have fun there. There are the Dance Dance Revolution machines, shooting games, basketball and coin karaoke machines. Maybe it’s a little cheap, but it’s what Jihoon has grown up with. He doesn’t think that Woojin has the same experiences, the same memories as he does—and Jihoon wants to share them. “I think you’ll have fun.”

Woojin grins at him. “Let’s go then.”

They stop by the convenience store before they hail a cab down to Hongdae. Jihoon had forgotten to bring a mask out today. It wasn’t like he had been expecting to meet Woojin today, hadn’t been expecting to be going out together with Woojin. When the cashier doesn’t recognise who he is, Jihoon silently thanks the gods. He takes out a piece of the mask out of the pack, tugs it higher up his face and walks towards the entrance, where Woojin’s waiting for him, leaning against the doorframe and looking like he’d just walked out straight from a damn manga.

“You need one?” Jihoon offers.

“Nah,” Woojin shakes his head.

“Alright then,” Jihoon nods, and pushes the pack into his back pockets. They head out of the convenience store, flagging a cab and it drives them down to Hongdae.

It’s when they are in the car that Jihoon can feel Woojin’s intent gaze on his. He tries to distract himself by looking out of the window. But it isn’t very interesting after he sees generic buildings after generic buildings. He finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat, as he realises how spoilt he has been. It’s been so easy for him to just extend his hand across the empty middle seat that separates them, to hold onto Woojin’s hand when they are in the safety and comforts of Woojin’s private car.

But here they are now, in a public cab. It’s enclosed, not as public as one would think, but it isn’t Woojin’s private car. Neither of them say anything too. It’s like there’s a constant fear, a constant camera that’s watching them both. And Jihoon’s afraid of what the media could do if they saw what Jihoon wants to do, and had done with Woojin.

All Jihoon wants to do is to stretch his hand across the distance, to hold onto Woojin’s hand, to feel the way their fingers fit each others’ hands so perfectly, like missing puzzle pieces.

Jihoon clenches his fingers into a fist.

 

 

 

Hongdae is just as Jihoon remembered it to be. Lively, vibrant and filled with the colours of youth. It isn’t too difficult to find an arcade, and Jihoon walks down the streets, leading Woojin into one.

It’s amusing, really, to see the way Woojin’s face changes as he steps into the arcade. Jihoon watches the way Woojin’s eyes widen in childish innocence and curiosity, in the way that everything looks new to him. It’s the first time that he’s seeing all the funky equipment and hearing the loud noise that’s almost deafening, and Jihoon always remembers how he struggled to hear what his friends were telling him. He heads to the coin-exchange machine, puts in a note so that the coins come out.

“What do you want to try out first?” Jihoon asks, after notioning for Woojin to inch closer.

“I don’t know,” Woojin says. “What do you recommend?”

When it comes toarcades, it’s got to be the basketball machine. Jihoon grins at Woojin, and then he leads Woojin over to where people are aiming the basketballs into the hoop. He pushes some coins in, and grins over to where Woojin watches him from the side, “Watch _and_ learn.”

He feels the traces of youth seep into him as his fingers come into contact with the roughness of the surface of the basketball. It brings a smile to his face, as he remembers the days where he’d come with his classmates, after school, to play. There weren’t yet, the complexities of growing up, nor the burdens that Jihoon shoulders now. It’s the nostalgia that makes Jihoon’s heart ache. But he thinks of how it’s all in the past. And he’s another person now.

He aims for the hoop as best as it can. But it’s hard to do so when it’s been so long since he last touched a basketball. So the ball hits the edges of the hoop more often than he wishes. The timer eventually goes off, and Jihoon’s left scratching at the back of his head when he scores lower than what he wished.

“You suck!” Woojin laughs at him when Jihoon turns to him.

It ignites the competitiveness within him and Jihoon pushes some more coins into the machine. “Alright then, you can have a go.”

Woojin grins. “I’ll break the high score.”

He doesn’t.

And it makes Jihoon laugh. Then, Woojin’s laughing as well. They are laughing _together._ It’s the tightest that Jihoon’s heart has ever felt in years. They both get on the Dance Dance Revolution machine next, after Jihoon remembers that Woojin’s a dancer. As much as they both have the blood of a dancer running through their veins, dancing on Dance Dance Revolution is _still_ different. Jihoon thinks that he probably should be true to himself, but when he sees the excitement and genuine that makes it way to Woojin’s eyes, he finds himself getting distracted, getting lost in watching Woojin.

Woojin wins, and they get off the machine. Woojin squints at Jihoon, “You didn’t let me win on purpose, did you?”

“No,” Jihoon huffs, crossing his arms. “Do you think so lowly of me? I would _never_!”

Well, if he were to be honest, Jihoon would. If it means being able to see a smile make its way onto Woojin’s face.

“Alright then,” Woojin replies. But there’s a tone in his voice that tells Jihoon that he doesn’t believe in Jihoon’s words completely. He doesn’t say anything else though and then, he’s tugging at Jihoon’s sleeves. “What are we going to play next?”

Jihoon wonders for a moment. Then he sees the coin karaoke machine at the corner of his eyes. It’s been awhile since he’s last been to karaoke and he thinks that it’d be an interesting experience. He swallows the lump that forms in his throat at the thought of being in such a small confined space with Woojin, but he thinks that they would have fun together. Jihoon wants to see how Woojin would be like when he’s in a space that he can let himself go loose. So he drags Woojin by the sleeve and they find themselves in the small booth.

“It’s really small,” Woojin comments.

“That isn’t the focus here,” Jihoon replies. He hopes that his voice comes out even. He hopes it doesn’t expose how he’s also nervous about being in such a small space with Woojin. Feelings are a terrible thing, really. If it were him in the past, he wouldn’t have bothered about the fact that they are in such a tight space together. But now that he _knows_ that he likes Park Woojin, even the small things matter. And Jihoon hates it. “We’re here to sing out hearts out!”

“Alright,” Woojin grins at him. That damn snaggletooth. Jihoon hates how his heart skips a beat whenever it peeks out from the side of his mouth. Then, he’s taking hold of the machine, and it’s Wanna One’s songs that he chooses to start with.

“Really now?” Jihoon raises a single eyebrow. He hates to admit it, but he’s heard enough of their title songs, and he thinks that he’s starting to get sick of them. But he figures, if Woojin wants to sing it, then he’d gladly oblige.

Woojin grins at him again. “Just watch me.”

Jihoon watches him. And damn, he is fucking good. He slayed the rap parts that were originally Daniel’s. Jihoon knows that Woojin can dance and now that he’s heard the way Woojin raps, Jihoon can’t help but wonder how it’ll be like if Woojin was ever placed in an idol group. He’d probably do well, with the smooth lines that he’s been saying to Jihoon. The girls _would_ go crazy.

They sing a few more songs before they start getting tired. It’s easy to get hyped to BTS and Big Bang songs. Woojin also slips in several girl groups songs, and Jihoon gets amazed at his never-ending energy, despite his supposed cold. But they have fun, and Jihoon figures that that’s what matters.

When they get out of the booth, Jihoon finds himself staring at the sticker photo booths. It’s been a long time since he’s been into one. He doesn’t quite realise that he’s staring intently at it until Woojin asks, “Want to go in?”

“Huh?” Jihoon blinks. He turns over to Woojin who points at the booth.

“You looked like you wanted to go in.”

Jihoon gulps. He does. “I do.”

“Then, let’s go,” Woojin says simply, and then they are going into the booth.

It’s awkward because neither of them know what to do, and time ticks quickly. Woojin teases him with the _Jeojang_ pose, and Jihoon rolls his eyes. They spend minimal time on decoration because neither of them know what to write. But Jihoon sees the thoughts that seem to hang overhead from the both of them. They both have unsaid words that are lying at the tip of their tongue. But neither of them say anything.

The photo drops from the side of the booth, and Jihoon breaks them into two. He can’t help but smile at how pink and flowery it looks. But it’d be a fond memory for the both of them in months and time to come. And Jihoon’s glad that he made these memories with Woojin.

“Are you hungry?” Woojin asks when they exit the arcade.

He hadn’t quite realised that the hours had ticked away while they were having fun at the arcade. It’s timely how his stomach rumbles upon Woojin’s question, and he covers his stomach in embarrassment.

Woojin laughs, “I guess you are.”

They head for one of the restaurants that are lying in the small back streets of Hongdae. The food’s cheap, nothing like the restaurants that Woojin probably frequents, but they inhale the warm stew down anyway. Woojin looks happy. And Jihoon thinks that happiness is a good look on him.

When they are done eating, they hail a cab back to Jihoon’s dorm. He makes sure to tell the taxi driver to drop them off when they are a street away, in fear of the _sasaeng_ fans that could be loitering outside. But inside, Jihoon thinks that he just wants to spend more time with Woojin. There’s a park at the back of their dormitory, and he thinks that he wants to spend time there with Woojin. It isn’t the most beautiful place, but Jihoon thinks that it’s a place that he’s kept for himself. He goes there whenever he needs a moment for his own private space. And he realises that he wants to share it with Woojin.

It’s located slightly uphill. Neither of them say anything as they make the walk up. If Woojin knows where Jihoon’s dormitory is, he doesn’t say anything even as Jihoon’s leading him in another direction. It’s dark by now, even though the night is still early—a tell-tale sign that the cold months are approaching. Jihoon finds his gaze going down to Woojin’s hand again, and he wishes that he was just a normal person; just Park Jihoon, so that he could reach out to hold Woojin’s hand.

It’s as if Woojin can read his thoughts because he’s reaching out, and intertwining their hands together. When Jihoon widens his eyes, Woojin supplies, “You wanted to hold my hand all day long, didn’t you?”

He feels his face heating up. “Yeah.”

Woojin grins at him, and then he’s raising their interlinked hands together so that he can press a kiss on Jihoon’s knuckles. His heart skips a beat again.

From its height, they can see a whole lot of Seoul from the park. There’s something about looking at the cityscape from afar that makes Jihoon’s heart feel at peace. They don’t say anything, but bask in the company of each other.

When Jihoon turns to his side, he sees Woojin. He sees the gentle roughness of his jawline, the tiredness that shows through his eye bags, and the damn grin that makes Woojin who he is. And it makes him realise that he’s fucking in love with Woojin.

He feels his gaze lowering to focus on Woojin’s lips. He wonders how it will feel like against his lips.

But he doesn’t do anything, and he squeezes Woojin’s hand instead.

Woojin squeezes it back.

 

 

 

When he gets back to the dorm, there’s a smile that’s etched onto his face. The other members are in their rooms, doing their own things. Minhyun’s sitting in the middle of the living room, scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly. Jihoon doesn’t forget to say “I’m home” as he’s taking off his shoes at the corridor and he slips onto the room slippers.

“You’re home,” Minhyun says.

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at the tone of Minhyun’s voice, that tells him that he’s been waiting for him. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Yeah,” Minhyun nods. He pats at the seat next to him on the couch as he puts his phone down on the table. “I’ve got something that I want to say to you.”

Jihoon nods, and he settles at Minhyun’s side. Minhyun’s hand immediately latches onto him. He strokes at the side of his hand and Jihoon can’t help but wonder what Minhyun’s about to say. There’s a voice at the back of his mind that tells him that it’s got to do with his relationship with Woojin.

And indeed, his instincts serve him right because Minhyun says, “It’s got to do with Woojin.”

“Woojin?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow.

Minhyun takes a huge breath and closes his eyes. He looks like he’s still wondering if he should say the words that he’s been bottling up, and when he opens his eyes again, there’s resolution in his gaze. And Jihoon knows that Minhyun’s determined to say whatever he wanted to say.

“I wanted to ask you if you like Woojin.’

“M-Me? L-Like Woojin?” Jihoon finds himself stuttering getting flustered over the question. Somehow, it isn’t the same as when he was talking to Jinyoung. There was something about Jinyoung that made Jihoon feel comfortable about talking about his feelings about. But Minhyun feels like a father to him, and it reminds him of how awkward it was when his mother had asked him about his crush.

“Yes,” Minhyun nods. “I’ve seen how you look whenever Woojin’s brought up. Hyung isn’t blind, you know.”

Jihoon finds himself looking down at the floor. Minhyun’s hand is still stroking the side of his hand. But it doesn’t feel like comfort. Instead, it feels like a silent pressure to get Jihoon to talk about his feelings. He swallows the lump that’s growing in his throat, and he thinks that he _should_ be honest with Minhyun, who only has his wellbeing in mind if he’s thought of talking to Jihoon about this.

“Yeah,” Jihoon murmurs. “I think I really do like him, hyung.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, why?” Minhyun asks. “Why do you like him?”

It’s a strange question that he never expected Minhyun to ask. But it makes him think of the reasons why he likes Woojin. It’s not the same as simply admitting that he has feelings for Woojin. He ponders for a moment, trying to collect his incoherent thoughts together before he responds to Minhyun.

“I guess, he makes me feel like I’m just Park Jihoon and not some other idol,” Jihoon settles. It isn’t wrong. Woojin makes him feel at home, that he can be _himself_ and not just some façade that he puts up. “He makes me feel like I’m loved in a way that isn’t the same as how the fans adore me, and somewhere along the way, I’ve come to enjoy his companionship and the way he holds my hand, the way he looks at me with the most tender gazes. And I find myself wanting more. I want to be special. I want to be special to Park Woojin, to have a role in his life that no one else would have.”

Minhyun doesn’t reply him immediately. He takes the information in with slow nods before he says more. “I know that it’s probably words that you don’t quite want to hear when you are in love with Woojin. But I’d advise against confessing.”

“Why?”

“Jihoon-ah, I think you must understand your roles. You’re an idol. He’s a chaebol. You’re both public figures whose every actions would be scrutinised. And you know what the public thinks of chaebol-idol relationships. If you were to be found out, they’d be quick to assume that you’re in _that_ sort of relationship.”

He feels almost insulted that Minhyun would bring up the idea of _sponsorship._ It leaves a sour taste in his mouth, even though he knows that Minhyun’s only being rational. But he still finds himself letting the rage cloud his thoughts, as he huffs, “But I’m still a minor!”

“That’s not what the public’s going to see, Jihoonie,” Minhyun reasons. “And we will be powerless against the media. Because they know how to twist the facts in a way that benefits them, and the public will only be able to see those twisted realities.”

Jihoon feels like he’s being stabbed with a million needles at the reality that sits in front of him. He wants Woojin so fucking much. It feels like he’s trying to reach out to something that’s in sight, but out of reach. He had been so ready to just confess, to say his feelings to Woojin—but now, he finds himself hesitating. Not when the future that lies ahead of him is embedded with so much thorns, that it only feels that the both of them are going to come out with so much scars, so much pain.

But Minhyun’s squeezing his hands and there’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “But I know that you really like him and Woojin really cherishes you. I’ll be here to give you the rationality of what you _should_ do.”

“But I think we both know what you _want_ to know. And the heart always wants the things that are always unfair, always against us.”

Jihoon bites at his lower lip as he nods. And he lets himself be taken into an embrace with Minhyun.

“I hope that whatever decision you make, you’d still be happy. And hyung, I’ll always be here for you. I’ll protect you as best as I can, alright?”

“Mm,” Jihoon nods. He wonders why his eyes suddenly feel wet. Is this gratitude? “Thank you, hyung.”

It feels like it’s sadness.

 

—

 

There’s only a few more days before Wanna One flies to Philippines for the last leg of their Asian fan meeting tour. They would be swept into comeback promotions once they are done with it, YMC informs them. It’s been two days since Jihoon had last seen Woojin in person. He finds it hard to reply Woojin’s messages, especially when Minhyun’s words hang heavily at the back of his head.

And Woojin probably realises it, because he’s knocking at the door of their practice studio later that evening. The rest of the members don’t bat an eyelash when they see him anymore, and they _know_ that he’s here for Jihoon. There’s no one else.

There’s a grin that’s on his face, and Jihoon hates how good he looks in the simple all-black ensemble. “Are you done with practice?” Woojin asks.

“Well, we’re just running through the choreography again _and_ again,” Jihoon replies.

“Hm,” Woojin purses his lips together. “It’ll be okay if I stole you then, right?”

Jihoon scoffs. “Are you _really_ asking? The old you would have just stolen me away without batting a single eyelash.”

“You’re right,” Woojin nods. “The _old_ me would have just taken you away. But I’m not that Woojin anymore. So I’m asking you if you’d let me steal you for the night.”

Fuck Woojin.

Jihoon decides that he really hates him, from the words that he chooses to use that always makes his heart skip a beat. He knows that there’s a permanent pink that dusts his cheeks whenever Woojin’s with him. He scratches the side of his face and he says, “Okay. I give you permission.”

Woojin grins at him. “Alright. Now go get changed, princess. No one likes a sweaty princess.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes, but he’s walking back into the studio to change his clothes. Before he leaves, he exchanges a look with both Minhyun and Jinyoung. Jinyoung gives him a _Fighting!_ sign while Minhyun just nods in understanding at him.

Outside, Woojin’s waiting for him while leaning against his chauffeured car. Jihoon expects his chauffeur to be outside to open the door for them both, so it takes him aback when Woojin’s the one who opens the door. “After you, princess.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jihoon scoffs as he steps into the car.

“Only for you.”

Jihoon thinks that he likes being chauffeured around when it gives him a reason, a space for him to reach out and hold Woojin’s hand.

 

 

 

When the car comes to a stop and the door at his side opens, Jihoon finds his jaw widening. He glares at Woojin at the realisation that they are at a _hotel_. It flashes warning signs at him, that if he were to get photographed by the paparazzi, it would spell T-R-O-U-B-L-E. In full capitals, bold, italics and underlined.

“Are you _crazy_?” Jihoon almost screams.

“I am very sane, thank you very much, princess,” Woojin replies as he walks over from where he had exited from the other side of the car. “We’re not going to be checking into a room, if that’s what you’re concerned about, princess. We’re here for another reason.”

“Another reason?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Woojin nods, walking ahead to enter the hotel. “Just wait and see, princess.”

Jihoon swallows the lump of fear that’s welling up in his throat. He follows Woojin into the hotel, where the staff bows at him. He probably owns this hotel, Jihoon realises. Then, they are inside the lift and Woojin presses the button for the highest floor. It makes Jihoon raise an eyebrow at that as he can’t quite predict what Woojin would have in mind.

“Nervous, princess?” Woojin grins at him, arms crossed as he leans against the walls of the elevator.

“What do you think,” Jihoon deadpans. “I have _no_ idea what you’re planning.”

“Good,” Woojin says just as the _Ding_ of the elevator signals their arrival at the topmost floor. “Then you can get the best surprise of your life.”

Woojin steps out of the elevator, extending a hand for Jihoon to take as he leads him out of the elevator. There’s nothing on this floor, except a staircase that leads to a single door. A voice at the back of his head tells him that it’s the rooftop, but Jihoon can’t quite think of the reason why they’d be at the rooftop.

Jihoon follows Woojin blindly, as they walk up the staircase and Woojin’s opening the door. When he opens the door, it’s already dark outside. And he lets himself take in the sight that’s in front of him. It’s a fucking rooftop garden, where there are fairy lights that are hanging from tree to tree. There’s a large wooden table in the middle of it, surrounded with fluffy pillows and thick blankets. It looks like a scene from a variety show, and Woojin leads them both to the middle of the rooftop, and they lie down on the thick blankets.

“What is this,” Jihoon says.

“Shh,” Woojin presses a finger to his lips. “Just wait for a while more.”

From the corner of his eyes, he sees the lights surrounding them dim, but it forms the path for a more beautiful sight to reveal itself. He’s lying dwn, and he has the perfect view of the sky that hangs above them. Slowly but surely, he sees the way there are spots of white in the dark blanket. Jihoon finds himself gasping at the sight, at the stars that dot the night sky that shouldn’t be visible in the middle of Seoul that’s wrecked with light pollution.

“You said you wanted to see the stars,” Woojin explains. “I can’t quite bring you outside Seoul now, so this is all I can do.”

“What did you do?” Jihoon exclaims, sitting up. When he looks around, the buildings around the hotel have dimmed. It’s probably the reason why he’s able to see the night sky. Because there aren’t anything else that shines brighter than them.

Park Woojin’s fucking ridiculous.

When he turns to look at Woojin, there’s only that snaggletoothed grin. He looks like it’s just another regular day for him where he’s relaxing on the rooftop garden, arms lying behind his head. “Do you like it, princess?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jihoon replies.

Then, Woojin’s sitting up as well and he’s leaning into Jihoon.

Jihoon wonders if Woojin can hear the sound of his heart beating so loudly and rapidly against his chest.

“I like you, Park Jihoon.”

Fuck.

Fuckfuck _fuck_.

It’s the moment that he’s been waiting for ever since Jihoon was made aware of his own feelings towards the tanned boy. When their eyes meet, he sees all the sincerity and genuineness of his words, and Jihoon feels like his heart could almost burst from all the warmth and the swirl of emotions that threaten to engulf him whole. Woojin’s own hand is reaching out to interlock their fingers together, and Jihoon can feel the way his palms are clammy with sweat, reminding him that Park Woojin is a human inside, and that his feelings for Jihoon are _real_ and no matter the fact that he’s a pompous _chaebol_ , he’s still a regular person who gets jitters from confession, gets nervous at the thought that maybe, Jihoon wouldn’t like him back.

Jihoon wonders if he should reply him, but Woojin looks like he still has words lying at the tip of his tongue, so Jihoon holds his tongue.

“I know that it might be hard for the both of us, because you’re an idol and I’m the heir to Naver Corporation. But I promise that I’ll protect you as best as I can. It’s not going to be easy, I know. We’re both public figures.

“There’s nothing that I’ve ever wanted as I grew up because everything has been handed on a silver platter to me. But when I think about you—I realise that you’re the only person that I’ve ever wanted, that has looked at me as someone who isn’t Naver Corporation’s Park Woojin, but just _Woojin_.

“So, I hope that _we_ can be something together.”

Damn it, why do his eyes feel so wet now?

But before he can wipe at his eyes, Woojin’s hands are already doing the job for him. Jihoon wonders how stupid he looks right now, for having cried just from Woojin’s confession. He tries to even his breathing as Woojin wipes the tears away, and strokes the back of his head.

He takes a deep breath too before he manages to compose himself. He thinks of Jinyoung’s encouraging words, of Minhyun’s gentle concern and the happy times that he’s spent with Woojin—and how he wants _more_ of those private moments. So he says, “I like you too… Park Woojin.”

And Woojin bursts into the brightest smile ever, that Jihoon thinks could rival the damn moon any day.

There’s silence that falls onto them after, as neither of them quite know what to do after they have made their feelings for each other known. Then, Woojin’s laughing softly as he says, “I think this is the part that we kiss, huh?”

“You watch too many dramas.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Woojin replies, leaning in. He’s so fucking close now, that Jihoon knows that he only needs to tilt his head, shift his lips and they would be against his. “I know you want to me kiss you.”

“What if I say that I don’t?”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Woojin rolls his eyes.

Then, he’s leaning in.

It’s just as sweet as Jihoon had pictured his first kiss to be. It’s amazing, really, the way their lips seem to mold against each other’s perfectly, just like how their fingers fit the spaces in between each other’s perfectly. He can taste the sweetness of Woojin, of the love and adoration that seeps into the kiss. He can also feel the way Woojin entangles his fingers into his hair, pushing him closer so that he can deepen their kiss. And Jihoon’s hands find their way around Woojin’s hand.

It’s a moment that belongs only to the two of _them_ and Jihoon has never felt happier.

—

It’s probably the honeymoon phase that they are in.

Jihoon can’t keep his fingers off his phone as he constantly wants to text Woojin. The rest of the members side-eye him whenever he excuses himself to pick up Woojin’s phone call. He has lost count of the amount of times Jinyoung and Daehwi had rolled their eyes teasingly at him. He ignores the way Minhyun shakes his head, but there’s a smile that remains on his lips. He sneaks out of the dormitory in the middle of the night so that he gets a few minutes to hug Woojin, to kiss Woojin.

It’s ridiculous, really, the way he lets himself be engulfed with thoughts consisting of nothing else but Woojin, Woojin, Woojin. But he’s terribly in love, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

They are meant to fly to Philippines. They check in with much difficulty, as it is an official schedule and it means that there’s a swarm of fangirls that surround them. Jihoon excuses himself to the toilet before they head into the boarding gates. He takes out his phone, only to pout when he doesn’t see any message from Woojin. He hadn’t replied any of his messages since the day started.

And perhaps, he should have been anticipating it. Because after he’s done washing his hands, there’s a hand that tugs at his backpack, and hands that cover his eyes, “Guess who.”

Jihoon wants to roll his eyes, but there’s a smile that finds its way onto his face. _God,_ he’s never been happier to hear that fucking voice. He reaches up to take the hands off, and then he’s turning around to look at Woojin, while holding onto his hand the whole time.

“You’re so stupid,” Jihoon scoffs. “Did you think that I wouldn’t be able to recognise your voice?”

Woojin intertwines their fingers together easily. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

It makes Jihoon smile. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m here to accompany you to the Philippines.”

Jihoon widens his eyes. “You have stuff to do there?”

“Yes,” Woojin nods. “It’s called accompanying my boyfriend.”

Jihoon hits his chest, but there is no strength in it. His cheeks feel like they are aching from how he’s smiling so widely. “You’re ridiculous.”

Woojin scans their surroundings and when he sees that there’s no one else in the washroom but them, he leans in to press a quick kiss to Jihoon’s lips. “Only for you, princess.”

It doesn’t surprise Jihoon when he gets onto the plane, and it’s Woojin who is already in the seat next to him. He probably booked the other empty window seat, considering how they are in the _Economy_ class this time.

“It’s so cramped in here,” Woojin comments with a frown. He’s trying to put the armrest up, and he looks entirely disorientated at the lack of space in the _Economy_ class, compared to what he’s used to.

“Not all of us were born with a golden spoon,” Jihoon scolds, opening the blankets for the both of them. It’s still a little hot in the plane, but he covers them both with the blanket and their hands find each other’s easily under the blanket. “It’s hot.”

“Take it off then,” Woojin teases him.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jihoon growls.

It’s probably the fatigue that’s getting to him, from the way he feels his eyes slowly closing. It’s a pretty long flight to the Philippines and Jihoon figures that he could probably get some rest. It’s why he lets his head fall even without realising it. It settles on a warm spot, and Jihoon finds himself nuzzling into it, wanting more of the softness and the sweetness.

But he finds himself being waken up when the warmth seeps away, and he feels Woojin’s hand being removed from his own. He opens his eyes drowsily, only to see Woojin glaring at a girl who has a camera in her hands. If Jihoon doesn’t remember wrongly, it’s the same girl as the one who tried to give him something bac when they were leaving for Taiwan.

Woojin’s voice is loud and clear to him, even though Jihoon’s sure that he’s been trying to keep his voice low so that it doesn’t cause a disturbance to the rest of the passengers on the flight.

“I told you, delete the photos.”

“It’s _my_ photos!”

Jihoon feels his stomach churning as his instincts tell him that there’s something _bad_ about the situation that seems to be spiralling out of hand. It has got to do with him, he’s sure. It’s the only reason why Woojin would sound so fucking angry. He wonders if he should intervene, or if he should pretend to continue sleeping because he isn’t quite sure of what would happen if he were to say something.

“What do you want? Money?” Woojin continues. His tone sounds fiercer than it did before, and it sounds almost foreign to Jihoon. It reminds him of how Woojin was like when they first met: all pride and callousness.

“I don’t need money,” the girl glares.

“Then tell me what you need so I can get you to delete the photos.”

Something tells Jihoon that he _needs_ to intervene, from the way the girl sounds absolutely stubborn about it. So he rises from his seat, and walks over to where Woojin and the girl have been arguing. He makes sure to turn on the innocent, the cute as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“She took some incriminating photos of you just now,” Woojin explains.

“Oh,” Jihoon feels his face turn pale at the thought. He knows it. He knows that she must have taken a photo of how he had fallen asleep on Woojin’s shoulder. And it would mean nothing but bad news if the media were to get a hold of those photos.

“Please,” he looks towards the girl. “Please delete the photos?”

She looks reluctant, but it’s Jihoon who’s requesting for her to delete them, so she lifts a shaky hand to the camera buttons, and she hits the _Delete_ button in front of them. “There you go.” She glares at Woojin. “Happy now?”

“Thank you,” Jihoon bows at her. “Thank you for being understanding.”

She doesn’t say anything as she walks away.

Beside him, Woojin turns and says, “I told you I’d protect you.”

“You were useless,” Jihoon scoffs. But his heart feels warm. Woojin _did_ try to protect him. “I was the one who convinced her to delete the photos, you know.”

“Fine,” Woojin relents. Then, they are shuffling back to their seats. “Don’t fall asleep on me this time, okay?” Then, he points to the wall by the window. “You can fall asleep there.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “ _Fine_.”

But their hands find each others’ under the blankets again, anyway.

 

—

 

The Phillipine fan meeting go without any issues. Maybe it’s because Woojin’s sitting in the audience that it makes Jihoon put in that extra strength in a particular move—the hip swirling movement in Energetic—so that he can impress Woojin. When the fanmeeting ends, Jihoon naturally finds Woojin backstage.

He excuses himself to the toilet. They have about ten more minutes before they have to head down to the airport, so Jihoon finds himself wandering down the foreign corridors in search for Woojin.

They hadn’t made decided on a spot to meet up at, which is why Jihoon finds himself surprised when he feels a strong hand pulling him into an empty waiting room. He gets pulled into Woojin’s embrace, being greeted by the strong smell of Woojin’s cologne.

“Hey you,” Jihoon murmurs against the cotton.

Woojin’s hand finds itself easily nestled in Jihoon’s hair. He runs his fingers through the dry hair and Jihoon can’t help but lean into the touch, finding that it’s strangely comforting. Woojin presses his lips to the top of his head to kiss Jihoon’s head, “You did well.”

“Really?” Jihoon raises an eyebrow, pulling back from their hug so he can meet Woojin’s eyes.

There’s a ghost of a smirk that’s hanging on Woojin’s lips but his eyes are bright as day—and Jihoon finds himself turning weak at the sincerity that pervades his gaze.

“You did,” Woojin reassures, pulling Jihoon back into a hug. This time, he ensures that his grip around Jihoon’s waist is tight, so that Jihoon can’t quite move. “You’ve improved since the last time I watched you perform.”

“I’m _always_ improving,” Jihoon rolls his eyes. But his cheeks feel like they are starting to hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. It’s stupid how Woojin’s praises can make his heart skip a beat too fast and how they would ring in his head for hours and even days to come. Woojin just laughs at Jihoon’s response, tightening his grip around Jihoon’s waist—as if they could get any closer.

“I love you,” Woojin whispers.

It’s sweet. It reminds him of the cotton candy that he’d insist on getting whenever he went to an amusement park when he was younger. There’s just something so fucking surreal about Woojin’s love, and his proclamations of adoration. And Jihoon can’t quite believe that they are _together_.

“I love you too.”

 

—

 

They manage to sneak around Jihoon’s schedule, that only seems to be getting busier as Wanna One begins to prepare for their comeback. From what Jihoon has heard, the song _Beautiful_ is just the perfect song to listen to as the autumn leaves rustle and the weather turns colder.

They have their dates later in the night and Jihoon pulls the strings of his hoodie tighter together while pulling his mask up. Woojin had tugged on his hand until Jihoon had allowed him to interlock their fingers together. It should be a strange sight really, for Jihoon to be all covered up while Woojin was just like any other normal citizen (albeit, a rich as fuck one, considering the brands of the clothes that he has on.) But there’s something _nice_ about how they walk around the streets along Hangang, talking about everything and anything—and Jihoon relishes in Woojin’s company.

Today happens to be a day where there are a couple of street vendors who are selling stuff—handmade, which means that they are all one of a kind. They stop by a vendor that’s selling jewellery, which Jihoon finds himself attracted to. He’s probably staring at the rings for a moment too long because Woojin’s prodding at his side, “You want something?”

Jihoon wonders how the simple black bands would look like on their fingers.

It’s simple enough so that Jihoon can pretend that it’s some sort of fashion accessory. He could easily say that there’s no meaning to the ring, even though he wants to let it rest on his ring finger. He wonders if the fans will misinterpret the meaning of the ring. But he looks at Woojin from the corner of his eye, and he thinks of all the good and bad times that they have shared together; and Jihoon realises that he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his lifetime with Woojin.

He knows that it isn’t good to make promises. But he wants eternity. He wants to have _something_ with Park Woojin.

It’s why he finds himself reaching out to the two rings while digging for his wallet. The store owner gives them both a sweet smile as she places them into a plastic bag. Jihoon pays for them, and they walk slightly further away until they find a quiet spot.

“You should have let me pay for that,” Woojin says, once they have settled down on a wooden bench.

“You’ve been paying for everything,” Jihoon rolls his eyes as he takes out the matching rings. It’s cheap, but Jihoon likes to think that there’s _meaning_ to it—considering that it’s something that Jihoon had bought after they got together proper. “And I’m not _so_ poor that I can’t afford something like this.”

Woojin laughs. “Alright.”

And he extends his hand. Jihoon finds his heart skipping a beat at thinking of what would be happening in the next few moments, at his own stupid self reaching out to grab Woojin’s hand. Pulling the ring over the fingers. Promising something. Promising _them_.

“I love you,” Jihoon murmurs, pulling the ring over Woojin’s finger. He makes sure to press a kiss against the knuckle before he sets it down.

Woojin takes the other ring that’s been sitting in the plastic and he does the same.

“I love you too.”

 

—

 

It happens suddenly.

They should have seen it coming, really.

It’s always easy for the media to plan exclusive news to be released just as idol groups are preparing to comeback. But it’s still takes them by surprise when Jihoon finds himself rudely woken up by Jisung one morning. Jihoon’s about to snap at Jisung for waking him up on a day that they _can_ sleep in—but the expression of fear and shock makes Jihoon keep quiet. There’s something terrifying about the lack of words from Jisung—and Jihoon finds himself being afraid of what Jisung’s about to say.

“What’s wrong?” Jihoon whispers.

“I don’t know where to start,” Jisung says and Jihoon can hear the way he’s trying to maintain an even tone, trying to remain level so that his voice doesn’t start to crack at the sides. He lifts up his phone. It’s a little bright for Jihoon’s liking, considering that he just woke up but he reaches out for the phone to read that page that Jisung had opened up:

 

> **[BREAKING/EXCLUSIVE] Wanna One’s Park Jihoon discovered to have a relationship with a chaebol**

_What._

_What the fuck?_

Jihoon’s eyes widen in shock, surprise and all the complex emotions that he can’t put a name to. He looks up to Jisung, who only engulfs Jihoon into a hug. He gives gentle strokes down Jihoon’s back, as if urging him to continue reading the article.

_An exclusive insider source has revealed that Wanna One’s Park Jihoon is dating a chaebol heir, Park Woojin. Park Woojin is also known to be the heir to Naver Corporation and also the only son of the Park family. The source claims that they had met each other when Naver Corporation announced that they would be financially backing Wanna One’s activities and have gotten close ever since._

The article continues to give evidence of how they are together. The photos are grainy and dim, but Jihoon remembers the days clearly and brightly. It’s the times that they ate out together at Hangang, the time that they bought the rings in front of a street vendor together, the time where the _sasaeng_ fan had taken a photograph of them together at the plane. Jihoon doesn’t know how the _sasaeng_ photos would have reached the journalist. He had saw the photo be deleted right in front of his eyes. It shouldn’t even exist anymore.

It’s the next photo that makes Jihoon heart skip a beat, at the knowledge that there’s no words that can be used to defend what they are. He bites at his lower lip, in fear at what are the consequences that he would have to face. Minhyun’s words of warning hang at the back of his head as his eyes focus on the photograph of Woojin pulling him into the hotel—the _very_ hotel that Woojin had brought Jihoon to so that he could confess to him after he showed him the stars, the hotel that made them who they are today.

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

And Jihoon doesn’t know what to do so he lets Jisung continue to stroke the back of his head as he feels the first tears drip from his eyes.

But his hands are still hovering on Jisung’s phone screen so he scrolls down to the comment section after he pulls back from the hug and wipes the tears away.

 

> _[+112, -20] Everyone knows that_ that _isn’t Park Woojin, the heir of Naver Corporation. We have never seen his face before. This guy is Jihoon’s famous fanboy and_ anyone _who has been to their fansign knows that it’s fou d’amour-nim._
> 
> _[+59, -1] I didn’t know that you had to resort to such articles for clickbait_ _ㅋㅋ_ _You can’t even tell that it’s Park Jihoon from the photos._

Jihoon wonders if he should be thankful for his fans who are defending him. But it’s a strange feeling as he’s consumed with the knowledge that they all nothing but the truth. He has never expected the media to tail them like this and to concoct an article based on blurry images that they have taken.

He’s interrupted with a phone call. He doesn’t need to take a look at his screen to know who it is. There can only be _one_ person.

Indeed, when he looks at his phone, his instincts serve him right:

 

> **Park Woojin is calling…**

“Hello?”

Jihoon feels Jisung rustling his hair before he’s walking out of the room so that he can give Jihoon some privacy at the phone call that he’s just received.

“You saw the article already, didn’t you?” Woojin asks.

“Yeah,” Jihoon murmurs. He knows that Woojin isn’t here with him, but he fiddles with the edge of his shirt. He wonders if Woojin can hear the nervousness, the fear in his voice. “What do we do?”

“We have to meet up to talk. Come down to the office in 30 minutes, okay?”

Jihoon takes a huge breath before he exhales loudly. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” Woojin replies. It’s strange how level Woojin sounds considering that Jihoon’s stomach feels like it’s been knotted up into a million different knots that he can’t untie. “It’ll be fine. I told you that I’ll protect you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

 

 

When Jihoon reaches the YMC Entertainment office, the staff are all in a disarray. Phone calls are never ending and it makes the guilt weight heavily in Jihoon’s stomach. Everything is _his_ fault and there’s nothing that he can do about the situation. He swallows the lump in his throat and follows his manager into the meeting room. Before he enters, he’s reminded of how it’s the _very_ meeting room that he had first met Woojin at—how ironic.

Woojin’s fiddling with his phone while leaning back in a seat in the room. He looks so composed and Jihoon feels his heart clench at the way Woojin visibly brightens up when Jihoon enters the room. He steps up from where he’s been sitting so that he can envelop Jihoon into a hug. “You alright?”

He wants to say that he is. But he isn’t. So he shakes his head and lets Woojin hug him tighter. They hug for a few more seconds before it starts feeling _off_ because they aren’t alone in the room. Jihoon pulls out a chair and he sits down next to Woojin, who begins to talk about the measures that Naver Corporation would take with regards to the scandal.

“We will change the related keywords that appear when people type out either me or Jihoon’s name. We have also contacted Dispatch to take down the article and paid the other news outlets to stop reporting it. If I’m not wrong, my staff have managed to contact another insider source and Dispatch will be releasing the news of another celebrity couple soon…” Woojin begins. He sounds utterly professional and calm; the level-headedness makes Jihoon curl up in his seat, feeling smaller than he usually feels. The Woojin that he’s seeing right now feels utterly foreign to him, and Jihoon wonders if this is how Woojin is like when he’s at work, when he’s in the corporate environment that means survival of the strongest—that it means that he has to be cool and nasty when the times call for it.

Jihoon finds himself tuning out to Woojin’s words.

Instead, Minhyun’s words of warning ring in his head. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth as he remembers how Jisung had looked when he first entered Jihoon’s room in the morning, as he remembers how the staff were flurrying around to answer phone calls, as he thinks of the staff that has to be pick up his shit.

He turns to look at Woojin from his side, where he’s going through all the procedures that they would do in order to clear both his and Jihoon’s name.

Jihoon sees the slope of his jawline, the sharpness of his nose and the eyes that shine with confidence and clarity—that he _knows_ what he is doing, and he’s doing it _right_. He’s reminded of how much he fucking loves Woojin, and everything about him.

But he thinks of how Woojin had acted in front of the _sasaeng_ fan and of how he’d be using another idol to cover up his mess—and Jihoon wonders if _everything_ is worth it. He’s being so selfish when it comes to his love for Woojin and Jihoon can’t help but feel wrecked with guilt from within.

When they are done with the meeting, Woojin lets out of a sigh of relief as he leans back into the chair that he’s been standing in front of. He loosens his tie with a single hand and Jihoon finds himself getting consumed with his thoughts. He starts to think of how everything that they are was never meant to work out—that they are indeed parallel lines that were never meant to intersect, and should have went down their own separate paths. Minhyun had warned him, but Jihoon had still followed his heart.

“Is there something wrong?” Woojin asks, leaning closer to Jihoon.

There’s no one else in the room. Jihoon fiddles with the edge of his shirt and it makes him focus on the simple black bands that rest on his ring finger.

He knows that he had made promises to Woojin. He wanted _them_ , and wanted an eternity of sweet love and adoration between the two of them. But he thinks of how Woojin _is_ a chaebol, and he is an idol. He’s never even met Woojin’s family. He doesn’t know what they would think of him. He’s _just_ Park Jihoon while he is Park Woojin. There are so many uncertainties that he never thought about till now—and Jihoon wonders how strong is their love, that it would take them to places that Jihoon never thought of going to.

It’s always easy to focus on the negative sides of things, and it’s what Jihoon finds himself looking at. The sun shines bright, but the shadows are dark and it pulls him in.

“We need to talk.”

 


	4. Chapter Four

Jihoon wonders if he’s being a tad too impulsive. But there’s a voice at the back of his head that tells Jihoon that it’s what that he  _ should  _ be doing.

“What’s wrong?” Woojin asks. 

It’s hard to find his voice. It’s a strange feeling, when their relationship has been about learning how to communicate with each other and it suddenly feels so terrifying to say what he really wants to say. 

It’s fucking terrible, really. The way Woojin looks at him like he’s the only one who lights up in his world, the way the love and sincerity shine through his brown eyes—and it makes Jihoon feel guilty with the words that lie at the tip of his tongue. 

“I think we should take a break,” Jihoon says.

He doesn’t dare to look up to meet Woojin’s eyes, even though he knows he should. He wonders what are the emotions that are running through those expressive eyes. He knows why he’s hesitating. It seems wrong for him to give up so easily on them, when he was thinking so much of wanting more of forever and less of now. Fear is running through his veins, and it’s Woojin’s hand on his that draws his attention and makes him look up. 

“Why?” Woojin asks. 

It feels like there’s an invisible knife that has been lodged in his heart, twisting and turning so that the hurt reaches every corner of it. Jihoon almost wishes that he could retract his words, swallow the lump in his throat and grin at Woojin while saying, “I’m just kidding!”

But it’s hard to think that they could ever work out, that they could find the similarities between their divergent lines. They are so in love with each other, but Jihoon finds it harder to risk everything else just so he can relish in Woojin’s love for him.

“I think we need a break to understand our differences better, Woojin-ah,” Jihoon murmurs. He tries to look away, to focus on anything else but Woojin’s piercing gaze. It’s hard to do so when Woojin’s tugging at his sleeve. “We are people from very different walks of lives. I know that you can make the scandal disappear easily, but I’m different from you… If my fans find out that it’s the truth, they could turn their back from me and I wouldn’t be the  _ same _ .”

Then, Jihoon’s reaching out to hold Woojin’s hand. He hopes that the sincerity seeps through and Woojin can feel the pain that’s wrecking through his body as he says the words that he wishes that he didn’t have to say. “I love you, I really do. But I think we both need a break so that we can lie low from the scandal, and think about  _ us _ .”

The Woojin that Jihoon knows has always been gentle and never showing a moment of weakness when he’s with him. It’s probably why Jihoon doesn’t expect Woojin to raise his voice in the following moments, nor expect the wetness of his eyes as the tears well up in them. 

“I don’t understand,” Woojin splutters. “What else is there to think about  _ us _ ? Isn’t it obvious  _ and  _ good enough that we’re in love with each other? What more is there that we need?”

It’s strange really, to hear the desperation in Woojin’s voice. Maybe it’s because Woojin’s been the son of a  _ chaebol _ —that he’s never had anything that he wanted be taken away from him. Maybe it’s because Woojin expects Jihoon to be by his side for a long time to come—and here, Jihoon is, taking it away from Woojin.

“I’m not saying that we break up or something,” Jihoon replies. He wonders if he sounds a little too defensive, because that’s what he thinks he’s coming across to sound like. “I’m saying that we need to take a break; to think about the consequences of how it’d be like if we were to continue being together.”

Jihoon interlocks their fingers together with a single hand as he extends the other to wipe at Woojin’s tears, to cup Woojin’s cheek. “Our relationship feels like it’s tethering on the rocks with the scandal. I don’t know how it’d be like if it gets found out for real, if my fans turn their back on me, or what happens to  _ you  _ if the stockholders of the company find out that their successor is…”

“Fuck them,” Woojin glares. “I don’t care about what they think. I only know that I really  _ do  _ want to be with you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Jihoon rolls his eyes. Then, he’s removing his fingers from Woojin’s hand so he can squish his cheeks together. “I know that Naver means a lot to you, even though you started off as wanting to keep the company away from Yerim. And being an idol means a lot to me too.”

Woojin sighs and he’s reaching out so that he can tear Jihoon’s hands away from his face. The look of desperation and pain has dissipated from his gaze and Jihoon can see the understanding that has made its way to his eyes. “I love you a lot, you know.”

“I know,” Jihoon can’t fight the smile that wants to make its way onto his lips despite how his heart feels like it’s crumbling into a million different pieces, hidden underneath the carpet of the meeting room so he’d never be able to put them back together. “I love you too.”

Then, they are both reaching out so that their faces meet in the middle and they share one last kiss.

 

—

 

It’s a strange feeling, considering that they didn’t quite break up. But Jihoon begins to understand sad love songs from a different perspective. They film Wanna One GO: Zero Base, and from his room, he’s able to hear the love songs that Jinyoung likes to belt out while he’s using the karaoke machine. He taps aggressively on the computer screen, on the game that he’s playing while Daniel’s out on another schedule—and he tries to pretend that he doesn’t hear the love songs.

He hadn’t taken off their promise ring ever since they last met. It’s a heavy weight that rests on his finger but it’s a burden that Jihoon finds himself wanting to shoulder. Love’s really the worst, Jihoon thinks. One moment he feels like he’s flying in the air, invincible and capable of doing  _ anything  _ as long as Woojin’s by his side. But the next moment, he feels like he’s being buried ten feet underground, that it’s the most beautiful poison that he’s ever had to take. 

Jihoon still stalks Twitter every now and then, to see what his fans have to say about his scandal, of how he’s been rumoured to be in a relationship with a chaebol. He sees how some of the fans have tried to defend him by brushing him off and highlighting the fact that Woojin’s a mere supportive fanboy who attends Wanna One’s schedules every now and then. It’s less of sponsorship and sexual favours, and more of genuine support. 

It leaves a sour taste in his mouth every time people leave comments reminding him that he’s a minor, and sponsor relationships are never innocent. He wants to be able to scream out, to hold a press conference or sorts to deny everything. But he’s powerless and he knows that he can’t do anything. 

He removes his earphones from where it’s been plugged into the computer. He’d grab some popcorn. Popcorn always helps. Popcorn is just like medicine for a hurt heart. So he helps himself to some popcorn from the food area before he munches on them in his room. He doesn’t forget to act cute in front of the camera that’s filming him, to secure some screen time for himself. And it’s Jinyoung who comes into his room several moments later.

Jinyoung coos at how cute Jihoon is in a room that’s filled with countless plushies and pillows. It’s just as how he wanted his room to be, and a part of him wonders if he had wanted something like this so that he could make up for the lack of Woojin’s love and hugs. 

“Are you okay though, hyung?” Jinyoung suddenly asks.

Jihoon doesn't expect it. They don’t have cameramen in Zero Base, but there are cameras that are filming their every move and microphones that are attached to them to record their every move. He sees the genuine concern that is in Jinyoung’s eyes. A part of Jihoon wants to be honest; wants to tell Jinyoung what has happened—considering that none of the other members knew exactly what happened to him and Woojin—but the cameras are rolling and Jinyoung  _ should  _ really have chosen a better time to bring it up.

So he hugs the plate of popcorn closer to himself and he pouts, “I know I’m on a diet but…”

Jinyoung just laughs at him, and he tackles Jihoon down against the pillows and blankets to grab some popcorn. Jinyoung makes sure that he’s soft when he whispers, “You can talk to me anytime, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon blinks. He wonders why it almost feels like he’s on the verge of crying from receiving Jinyoung’s kindness. “I will.”

  
  
  


It’s how they find themselves sitting outside in a park that’s not too far away from Zero Base. They shouldn’t be outside, considering how cold it’s gotten in Seoul recently. But they have their padded jackets on, and hot bottled drinks from the vending machine nearby and it helps to warm up their ice cold hands.

A part of Jihoon wonders how Woojin is doing: is he sleeping well? Is he eating okay? Is he staying warm? He knows Woojin’s the type to forget about eating and sleeping whenever he gets too into his projects and work—and Jihoon wishes that he could send a text message to him, ask him  _ How are you?  _ but sending text messages have never been a more daunting task than ever—and it’s how Jihoon finds his fingers stopping on the words even before he can tap on them. 

“So how have you and Woojin-hyung been?” Jinyoung asks, putting a little more strength onto the swing so that the swing rides the strength, goes against the wind and it moves higher than before. “It’s been awhile since you last sneaked out of the dorm. Has he been busy?”

“I told him that we needed to take a break from each other,” Jihoon says. Unlike Jinyoung, he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the swing. His two feet are firmly planted on the sand, bottle of hot coffee in his lap where his hands are being warmed up.

“What?” Jinyoung exclaims, promptly coming to a stop from where he had been swinging. “Didn’t you  _ just  _ get together?”

“Yeah. We did.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung’s eyes fall when he seems to have been able to connect the dots together. “Is it because of the scandal?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon replies, kicking at the sand without much thought. He then looks up to the sky, where he sees the darkness and he’s reminded of what Woojin had actually done to confess to him. The memory of it makes him smile. But the content of what he wants to say is vastly different and it makes him sigh. “Minhyun-hyung had actually told me that I shouldn’t get together with him because of how different we are. Woojin can easily make the scandal disappear, but I’m someone who lives on the support of other people, of the fans. If they decide to leave me, that’s it for me. And that means that I can’t continue to do things that I want to do.”

Jihoon takes a breath before he continues. “And you know how people are going to assume me and Woojin’s relationship to be.”

Jinyoung purses his lips together as he nods.

It’s a reality that neither of them want to come to terms to. But it’s always easy for people to misunderstand relationships that they don’t know about. It’s easy for them to simply assume. You have an idol and you have a chaebol—and that spells nothing else but  _ sponsorship _ . 

As if that isn’t bad enough, it doesn’t change the fact that he and Woojin are both males—and society is  _ never  _ accepting of relationships like them.

“But what are you going to do?” Jinyoung asks. “You really like Woojin-hyung, don’t you?”

Jihoon doesn’t realise when the lump of emotions had started to build up within his throat. It suddenly feels like it has gone harder to breathe and Jihoon doesn’t know what to do. It’s easy to follow what his heart wants to do—to drop everything and continue to love Woojin, and be loved by Woojin. But he loves being an idol too. He loves everything that he’s doing. It’s a dilemma that he wishes that he didn’t have to choose between. 

It’s how he finds himself being brutally honest and he kicks at the sand again. “I don’t know what I should do.”

Jinyoung doesn’t reply him immediately, but Jihoon can hear the soft hums that tell him that he’s thinking, that he’s searching for the right words to say. It’s heartbeats later that Jinyoung’s standing up and Jihoon can hear the way the sand shifts beneath him, and Jinyoung’s hands are reaching out to hold Jihoon’s own.

“I think you should go back to being with Woojin-hyung,” Jinyoung says. It’s sincere and it’s honest. If Minhyun is the voice of rationality, Jinyoung feels like the voice of his innermost desires, of the wants that he’s struggling to bury. “I know that it’s hard for the both of you now, even though the scandal hadn’t been brought up quite often, but hyung, all I want is for you to be happy.”

Jinyoung tightens his grip on Jihoon’s hands, interlocking them together as he peers up to meet Jihoon’s eyes from below. 

“I’ve seen how you look like when you’re texting Woojin-hyung, when you’re about to meet him. It’s a different type of happiness as to when you’re about to go up on the stage to perform. It’s a different kind of excitement that seeps into your eyes—and Woojin-hyung’s the only person who’s able to make your eyes sparkle like that. You’ve been through painful times with him, but you don’t really think of them anymore, do you? It’s the happy times that you continue to think about, that it makes you think:  _ hey, no matter what shit we’ve been through, it’s all worth it in the end _ .”

Jihoon blinks and he wonders why his eyes suddenly feel wetter than they did before. “But.. what do I do now? It’s hard for me to find Woojin again after what I did to him. And it’s not like my scandal had been cleared up completely. What if people find out what we really are and people turn their backs on me?”

Jinyoung grins at him. “The fans who should matter are the fans who will stay with you despite them all, because they know you for who you are. You’re Park Jihoon, the one who loves to perform on stage, the one who spends countless of hours perfecting choreography and coming up with new catchphrases so that you’re able to capture the hearts of your fans.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon swallows the lump in his throat and it’s his turn to tighten his grip on Jinyoung’s hands. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Jinyoung grins.

It makes Jihoon laugh. It’s been awhile since he’s able to laugh like this. He brings a hand up to wipe at the stray tears that had managed to fall out of his eyes. But as he’s doing so, the moonlight shines and it reflects off the black ring that sits on his finger. It reminds him of Park Woojin  _ and  _ Park Jihoon; of who they are and Jihoon thinks that he does really fucking love Park Woojin. 

He loves all his flaws and all his perfections, of how he overdoes things because that’s just who he is, of how he can come across to be arrogant when he’s trying to get things done—and of how he actually really does love him to, that he’s willing to share the bits and pieces of himself that no one else knows, and that he’s willing to sacrifice so much just so that he can continue to be with Jihoon.

_ Love’s really the worst, huh _ , Jihoon thinks. It makes you do the shit that you never thought you’d be able to do—and the worst part of it all, is that there’s no room for regrets. 

 

—

 

> **Naver Corporation denies rumours of chaebol sponsorship: “It’s all business.”**
> 
> **YMC Reps: “Park Woojin’s just a business partner.”**
> 
> _ Representatives from YMC Entertainment have denied dating rumours of Wanna One’s Park Jihoon with Naver Corporation’s successor, Park Woojin. YMC Entertainment has revealed that Naver Corporation has been sponsoring much of Wanna One’s activities ever since their debut, and meetings between Park Jihoon and Park Woojin were merely for business purposes; to discuss Wanna One’s future projects together. _
> 
> _ “We will be taking legal action towards any slander and rumours that are spread in the future.” _
> 
> _ [+552, -110] YMC’s finally taking action against the rumours? ㅋㅋ At last! _
> 
> _ [+320, -59] I told you that it was rubbish. ㅋㅋ Park Woojin’s just a loyal Park Jihoon fan. Don’t use their names to spread groundless rumours!! _
> 
> _ [+12, -220] That still doesn’t explain the pictures of them at the airplane… Business purposes, my foot! _
> 
>   
>    
>    
> 

The release of the articles do help to prevent Jihoon’s scandal from spreading further. They disappear in time for Wanna One’s music show recordings, so everything is able to proceed smoothly. News also report Woojin being at work, signing business deals and creating new trade links with indie corporations so that they fall under Naver Corporation. It’s not only the statements from YMC Entertainment and Naver Corporation that does so, but there’s also another dating rumour of another star that helps to divert attention off from him to the other idol. There’s a part of Jihoon that thinks that it’s Woojin at work, but it’s hard for him to confirm his suspicions when he still haven’t been able to muster the courage to talk to Woojin.

It’s been days since he had the conversation with Jinyoung. A part of him is already determined, and is sure of his feelings for Woojin, and wants to do something about their rocky relationship. Jihoon finds himself hesitating to send a text message to Woojin, as it’s suddenly so hard to find the words that he wants to say. 

There are so many things that he wants to say:  _ sorry, I love you, I miss you _ —and Jihoon doesn’t know where to start. 

Jihoon doesn’t realise how lost in his thoughts, until Minhyun’s prodding at his side as they are waiting for their turn to record on Music Bank. “Are you okay?” 

Jihoon blinks. He doesn’t quite register Minhyun’s words until Minhyun’s repeating himself. “Yeah, I’m fine!” 

Minhyun gives him a look that tells Jihoon that he’s doing a terrible job at being convincing. So he sighs and he looks down at where his hands are fiddling with each other (as his shirt has been tucked in, and it’s hard for him to fiddle with the edges of his shirt instead). 

“What’s happening with you and Woojin?” Minhyun asks. “I know that I told you that there would be consequences but…”

It sounds like Minhyun’s regretting telling Jihoon about his thoughts, that there was that inch of self-blame in his words that suggested that if only he hadn’t said anything, then they wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Admittedly, Minhyun’s words  _ were  _ right—and that they hadn’t met a good outcome, but Jihoon knows where Minhyun is coming from and he isn’t blind to be unable to see the truth in the words.

“I told him that we should take time off our relationship until the scandal’s fixed,” Jihoon says, after taking a deep breath. 

“Oh?” Minhyun raises an eyebrow at that. “What made you say that?”

“I guess, I could understand where you were coming from, in telling me that I should be more wary about my relationship with Woojin,” Jihoon says, looking at down at where the black band sits and he twists it around. It’s hard to take his eyes off the band these days, when it’s the only thing that he seems to have that’s still connected to Woojin. “And I thought that we could deal with a break to see how much our relationship meant to each other.”

Minhyun nods, and Jihoon takes it as a cue that he’s listening and he wants Jihoon to continue.

“And I think that I’ve come to the conclusion that I really like Woojin,” Jihoon says. It’s strange how easily the words come when he’s admitting his feelings to Minhyun, rather than the person in question itself. It’s like, there’s something about realising how much he does like Woojin, and being able to talk to Minhyun about it that makes Jihoon want to open up, want to hear what Minhyun has to say, considering that he was someone who advised him against being in a relationship with Woojin.

Minhyun nods again. “So what are you going to do now?”

Jihoon blinks at Minhyun’s question. “Aren’t you opposed to my relationship with Woojin?”

Minhyun gives him a thoughtful look as he places his hands beneath his chin. “I am. But I can see how much you like Woojin, and we all know how powerful love is; that it makes you do things that you wouldn’t be able to do before. And as much as I can advise you against doing it,” Minhyun pauses to reach out to ruffle Jihoon’s hair, “I know that you will eventually go back to being with Woojin. So I decided that I’ll be as supportive as I can.”

“Oh,” Jihoon blinks. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Minhyun smiles at him. It’s warm, like sunshine on a rainy day that Jihoon wants to bask in forever. “Are you going to contact him?”

“That’s the thing, hyung,” Jihoon says. He wonders why his voice sounds so fucking sad. “I don’t know how to start talking to him.”

Minhyun laughs softly at him, but he’s running a comforting hand down Jihoon’s back. There’s nothing demeaning about his laughter. It sounds like how a mother would react when her child comes to her about her first crush. Jihoon pouts, crossing his arms together which only leads Minhyun to laugh harder.

“It shouldn’t be any different from how you used to talk to him, you know,” Minhyun says. “Nothing has changed between you two. Just act like how you’d act in the past. There’s no need for dramatic get-back-togethers. Just do you.”

Jihoon wants to tell Minhyun that it’s harder to speak to Woojin than the way he puts it forth to be. But he swallows the words and nods. “Alright.”

“Good luck, Jihoonie.”

  
  


—

 

Jihoon doesn’t end up texting Woojin.

He still finds himself hesitating whenever he pulls the chat that he has with Woojin open. The last message that he sent to Woojin was weeks ago, and it’s of a sticker, of Cony saying “good night”. It reminds Jihoon of the time that they were together, before everything went to shit. He spends hours at night wondering what he should type. He types words and sentences and lines and messages, but he hits the delete button every time he reads through the message before he sends it out. 

There’s something about it that makes Jihoon cringe at how impersonal it sounds. It’s how he ends up being back on Twitter, looking through the photographs that  _ fou d’amour  _ had taken of him. It’s a strange feeling, to see the photographs of himself that’s taken through the lens of Park Woojin’s gaze. There’s something strangely intimate about it that Jihoon finds himself choking up at. 

Jihoon’s phone vibrates in his hands, and he gets notified that there has been a new update by  _ fou d’amour _ . He jumps slightly at it and he doesn’t realise how badly his hands are shaking. He scrolls up to the top of the page, where there has been an old picture of him that was newly released. It’s of his first showcase, and it tags:

> **fou d’amour @foudamour_jh**
> 
> 170807 Wanna One First Showcon   
>  #Park Jihoon #Wanna One
> 
> I miss you so much   
>  Now I finally feel our space

He blinks at the words, at the lyrics that have been quoted that is so fucking apt to their situation right now. He sees how he used to look like back in August, and there’s something about his gaze that strikes him to be different from how he looks like after he started to fall for Woojin. Perhaps, it’s the passion and the spark that has grown stronger. But there’s something that’s different from then and now, and Jihoon knows that it can only be because of Park Woojin.

He doesn’t know why it took him so long, but it’s also how he finds himself going onto Naver Dictionary, and he keys in the words that he doesn’t know what it means. And he finds himself choking on the lump of emotions that have formed within his throat, and the moistness grow within his eyes. 

Fuck. 

How could he have taken so long to translate this?

Everyone tells him that you can’t quite rely on online dictionaries, but Jihoon wants to think that it’s right. He wants to believe this was Woojin’s heart and feelings that he wanted to share from the start.

**_Fou d’amour_ ** _ — madly in love _

 

—

 

The next morning, Jihoon rushes down to Naver Corporation’s head office after he informs their managers. He has a schedule later in the day for the Musician fanmeeting, but all he needs to say is Park Woojin’s name, and the managers do let him go willingly. He’s dressed awfully different from the rest of the people in the office. He still feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb in his hoodie and jeans, but all he can think about is how he wants to see Park Woojin’s face, to see that snaggletoothed grin and tanned skin in full glory. 

He’s about to make his way up when security stops him. Security tells him, “If you’re looking for Mr Park, he’s not in today.”

“What do you mean he’s not in today?” Jihoon blinks at him. “Doesn’t he have work?”

Security shifts from one foot to the other, and he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly. “Actually, Mr Park hasn’t been at work for the past few weeks. Not since the scandal had broken out.”

Jihoon stares at the staff. “Oh. Thank you for letting me know.”

It’s information that he hadn’t known. He hadn’t expected the scandal to impact Woojin like this, to the extent where he’d give up work. It makes Jihoon feel ridden with guilt, that he had inexplicably led Woojin to being in such a state—and it makes him feel even worse at the knowledge that he doesn’t have any idea of where Woojin could be. 

Well, he thinks that Woojin would be at home. But he doesn’t actually know Woojin’s address. Not when Woojin had been the one to lead him there without telling him where he’s bringing him to.

He walks out of the office without much thought and he orders a hot chocolate at the cafe that Woojin had brought him to the last time he had came down to the office. He settles at a seat by the window, stirring at the cup of hot chocolate as he stares at his chat with Woojin. 

> **To: Woojin**   
>  Can we talk?   
>  I miss you.

It’s after he sends the message that he realises the weight of the words that he sends. Impulses are only good because they lead you to do things that you never thought you’d be able to do. But after he sends out the message, Jihoon finds himself being worried, at the thought that Woojin doesn’t actually want to talk to him again and at the very fact that he doesn’t seem to be able to predict what Woojin would reply. 

Woojin’s reply comes faster than Jihoon expects, and the vibration of his phone almost makes him drop his phone.

> **From: Woojin**   
>  Where are you?
> 
> **To: Woojin**   
>  I’m at the cafe that’s across your office.   
>  I went to your office but they told me that you haven’t been coming in for work…
> 
> **From: Woojin**   
>  I’ll send the driver over.    
>  Just wait for 5 mins or so.

Jihoon finishes up his cup of hot chocolate before the driver comes. He doesn’t need to look at the car to know whether it’s his ride, considering that it isn’t the first time that he’s taking the car ride. But there’s something weird about it, that he’s the only one in the car. He doesn’t know what he should say, or if he should say anything to the driver. It’s only now that he realises that he doesn’t know anything about the driver—a mere nameless figure because all he can see when he’s with Woojin, is Woojin himself.

The ride to where Woojin wants him to be continues to remain awkward and silent. Jihoon takes out of his phone and scrolls on Twitter absent-mindedly, looking at the updates by his fansites. He sees how their photographs are different from the ones that Woojin takes—and he wonders if other people can see the layers of intimacy that sneak its way onto Woojin’s photos.

“We’re here.”

Jihoon looks up when the driver speaks and he meets his eyes through the rearview mirror. There’s nothing that Jihoon can read from his gaze and he simply says a “thank you” before he gets out of the car.

It’s Woojin’s house that he finds himself at. He walks up to the entrance of his house as the driver drives the car away. The sound of the doorbell seems to be amplified from the silence from the emptiness of their surroundings, and Jihoon can hear the hasty footsteps and the loud “I’m coming!”

He can feel the way his heart is beating so quickly and harshly against his chest. He’s standing in front of Woojin’s door, where the latter is just several footsteps away and all Jihoon wishes is that he could dig a hole at where he’s standing so that he could bury himself deep. He doesn’t actually know what he’s going to say when he meets eyes with Woojin, and a part of him is afraid to see Woojin after they hadn’t talked to each other for so long.

The door opens as Jihoon fiddles with his thumb. 

“Hey,” Woojin says with a snaggle-toothed grin. Behind, Jihoon can see Choco yelping excitedly at his presence but he doesn’t focus on Choco when he can’t talk his eyes off Park Woojin. He looks like he had just rolled out of bed, worn pyjamas and ruffled hair. It’s intimate and soft. And Jihoon knows that it’s the many sides of Woojin that only  _ he _ gets to see.

“Hey,” Jihoon whispers. “It’s been awhile.”

“Yeah,” Woojin replies softly. He looks like he wants to do something with his hands, from the way they tremble slightly at his sides, but can’t quite pluck up the courage to do what he wants to do. Jihoon thinks that he has an inkling of what Woojin wants to do, so he takes a deep breath before he extends his hand out to hold onto Woojin’s hand.

Woojin blinks at their interconnected hands, and Jihoon smiles at him. “I missed you.”

It makes Woojin smile too, and he pulls Jihoon into an enveloping hug. The smell of cotton and  _ Woojin  _ hits Jihoon’s nose, and Jihoon finds himself nosing deeper into Woojin’s shirt so that he gets a stronger whiff of Woojin’s scent, that he hadn’t quite realised that he missed so much until now. He hears the door close from behind him and he lets go off their hug so that he can hold onto Woojin’s hands proper.

“We need to talk, don’t we?”

Woojin purses his lips together. Jihoon tries to ignore the hurt that makes its way onto Woojin’s eyes. He wishes that he had a better way of phrasing things, but it  _ is  _ what they need to do: talk.

“We do.”

  
  
  


They sit down at the island of Woojin’s kitchen. Woojin makes him some hot tea (although it’s just him pouring hot water into a cup that has a teabag in it) and they sit down together. The atmosphere is more awkward and serious than Jihoon had imagined it to be. He knows what he needs to say, but it’s hard to find the right words in front of Woojin. He doesn’t want to make any mistakes with his words, not when it’s Woojin. Woojin who matters so fucking much to him.

“I—”

“I—”

They both start talking at the same time. It makes Jihoon laugh at how in sync they are and it also makes Woojin laugh too. It helps to make the tension from before disappear and Jihoon’s heart starts to feel lighter than it originally was. 

“You first,” Woojin says.

Jihoon takes a deep breath, as if it could help to muster all the courage that he lacks to speak. “I don’t know where I should start, but I think that the break has done us good. I think that it made me realise how much I really do fucking love you, and I don’t want us to be separated from each other anymore.”

Woojin doesn’t speak and instead, he tangles his fingers with Jihoon’s and Jihoon takes it as his cue to continue talking. “I think I got frustrated at how you treated the scandal, that it was just something else that you could easily control and toy with, and it reminded me of who you are, of how you are Naver Corporation’s son, and how your life is so vastly different from mine. It reminded me of how I barely know anything about your family. I’ve never met your parents. I’ve never met Yerim. I don’t know anything about you besides what you’ve shown me.

“Minhyun-hyung actually talked to me the night before we got together. He advised me against being together with you, because our relationship would never be accepted by the public in the way that we want them to see. I thought of his words when the scandal broke up. It made me regret that we got together, when the consequences of us being together was so  _ bad _ .

“I guess that’s why I thought of having a break from being together,” Jihoon admits, scratching at the side of his face. He doesn’t dare to look up at Woojin, to see the way his features would contort with every word that he says, so he focuses on looking at the way Woojin’s hand tightens in his own. 

“I see,” Woojin says. “I could bring you to meet them, you know.”

“Them?” Jihoon looks up.

He hates how expressive Woojin’s damned eyes are. He knows how his fans say that his eyes are like constellations in the night sky, of how they shine with all the beauty of the world. But Jihoon likes to think that Woojin’s eyes are equally beautiful. They don’t quite shine like they do, but Jihoon likes the way Woojin’s eyes shine with happiness and delight whenever they are together; of how Jihoon can see the slight tinge of cheekiness in his gaze that softens, no matter how piercing it seems to be, whenever it lands on Jihoon.

“Yeah,” Woojin grins at him and he pulls Jihoon’s hand up so that he can press soft kisses against each and every knuckle. Jihoon’s slightly thankful that he’s sitting down for he can feel the way his knees are buckling at the intimacy and softness of Woojin’s touch. “I’ll bring you to meet my family. So you have to bring me to meet yours.”

Jihoon feels a familiar flush hitting his cheeks at the very thought of meeting Woojin’s family, of the thought of Woojin meeting  _ his  _ family. He wonders if they are moving too fast, but he thinks that it’s  _ them  _ and it’d be their own pace so he brushes the thoughts away. He nods.

“And I love Naver Corporation. I love working there and I think that I only realised it after you brought it up,” Woojin admits. Jihoon wonders if Woojin can hear how hard his heart is beating from how close they are. “But I think I love you more, and I wouldn’t want to be apart from you anymore. The break was fucking terrible. But it made me realise how much you mean to me.”

“I will risk everything in the future if it means that I can continue to be with you. Of course, it’d be most ideal if none of this shit happens again. But I’m Naver’s son for a reason right?” Woojin grins at the end.

It’s just like Woojin to be like this, that arrogant self without a bite—and Jihoon loves it. He loves every piece of Woojin, from the part of him that loves to baby Choco, from the part of him that loves his job, from the part of him that is arrogant but adoring. He’s so fucking whipped for Woojin that it makes his stomach churn. But it feels like a love that would span across decades and years and lifetimes, and Jihoon wonders what he ever did in his past life to deserve someone who loves him so fucking much. But he thinks that he’d fall for Park Woojin over and all over again, if it means that he gets to be with him in many more lifetimes to come.

“You’re stupid,” Jihoon says. 

“I’m your favourite kind of stupid,” Woojin replies. 

He lets go of his hands so that he can let them slip down and rest of Jihoon’s waist. He pulls Jihoon into a hug and leaves gentle strokes down Jihoon’s back that makes him feel so loved.

“I searched up the meaning of  _ fou d’amour _ , by the way,” Jihoon murmurs, wrapping his arms around Woojin’s neck.

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods. He pulls away from their embrace slightly so that he can look into Woojin’s eyes. “So you’ve been  _ madly in love _ with me from the start?”

“Maybe,” Woojin replies with a shrug. 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. Woojin laughs, sneaking a kiss onto Jihoon’s lips before he admits, “I was.”

 

—

 

Jihoon eventually gets to meet Woojin’s parents on Christmas. He introduces Woojin to his own family on New Years Day. He doesn’t expect the meetings to go well, but their parents look happy at how their sons have found the people who mean the world to them, despite them being the same sex. 

Wanna One gets busy, which means that Naver Corporation gets busy too. It makes it hard for Jihoon to meet Woojin again, but they settle for text messages and Jihoon constantly reminds Woojin to have his meals, to stay warm. It makes Jihoon’s heart feel warm at being able to do so. It feels domestic. It feels like love. He ignores the way Guanlin and Daehwi roll their eyes whenever he takes out his phone to text Woojin. 

It’s Chuseok when Jihoon finds himself being invited to Woojin’s family dinner. He feels more comfortable sitting in the living room of their gigantic house, being served dishes after dishes. Woojin helps to put the food on his plate, placing more chicken on his plate. “It’s your favourite, isn’t it?”

Jihoon blushes as he nods. Yerim rolls her eyes while murmuring, “Whipped. So whipped.” under her breath.

They sit down in the living room after dinner. The television is turned on, but none of them are paying attention to what’s screening. Woojin’s in the kitchen with his mother so that he can cut some fruits and his dad has retired to his own room. 

“I’m really glad that my brother has eyes to date someone like you, really,” Yerim says. She has her knees to her chest where she’s sitting on the sofa and Jihoon’s forced to look up from where he’s sitting down on the floor. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Yerim nods. “He’s turned more soft and affectionate after getting to know you. He spends more time with me now. I never knew that my brother was someone like this until recently, actually.”

Yerim sounds more mature than what Jihoon had ever imagined her to be. She’s snarky for her age, but there’s something about her confidence that makes her endearing and Jihoon can see the similarities between the Park siblings.

“Are you shit-talking me again?” Woojin says, plopping next to Jihoon after he places the bowl of fruits on the table.

Yerim sticks her tongue out at Woojin at the same time his mother says, “Woojin, language!” from the kitchen.

“Sorry!” Woojin calls back out.

If Jihoon were to be honest, there’s nothing about Woojin’s family that gives away that they are the owners of Naver Corporation. It’s domestic, family-like and filled with so much warmth that it makes Jihoon’s heart feel like it’s about to burst. Woojin stabs a fork into an apple that he had boasted at how well he cut it, and he feeds it to Jihoon.

Woojin coos at how well Jihoon’s eating the apple. It’s sour, but Jihoon can only taste the sweetness of the fruit.

He’s happy.

  
  
  


The clock is ticking and Jihoon knows that it’s time to say goodbye to things that he doesn’t want to say goodbye to. He hadn’t quite imagined himself to grow so attached to Wanna One when they first started, but Jihoon finds it hard to imagine himself being in a group without Jinyoung, the one person that he could absolutely trust his secrets with, without Minhyun, who is the voice of rationality and morality. He swallows the lump in his throat as they say their final goodbyes to the dormitory where they share so much memories in.

Woojin picks him up after the rest of the members have left and only Jihoon is left with his luggage in the empty dormitory. It’s clean and devoid of any of their personal items. It makes Wanna One feel like the most beautiful dream that he’s about to wake up from, and Jihoon doesn’t quite want to wake up from it. 

“You still have me, you know,” Woojin says from his side. 

“But you aren’t Wanna One,” Jihoon replies. “If only you could be as good-looking as Minhyun-hyung!”

Woojin rolls his eyes. “I’m plenty good-looking, thank you.”

They are holding hands in the car as they get driven back to Woojin’s place. Jihoon’s going to move in until Maroo Entertainment sorts out their plans for Jihoon. A part of Jihoon wishes that Maroo never gets their shit together so that he gets to stay over at Woojin’s house for a longer time, but he also wants to be able to do what he wants to do. 

They reach Woojin’s house moments later and it’s almost too easy how Woojin’s place as the empty spots for Jihoon’s personal items to be slotted at. Jihoon raises an eyebrow as Woojin hangs up his clothes, “Did you empty your stuff out for me?”

“Maybe,” Woojin grins. Jihoon knows that he means yes.

But it makes packing easy and they find themselves sitting down on the couch in no time. It’s some Hollywood blockbuster that’s playing on the screen, but Jihoon doesn’t quite pay attention to its contents because Park Woojin still isn’t back with his popcorn and it’s been ten minutes. 

He turns to the direction of the kitchen, ready to yell at Woojin for being so slow. He blinks when he discovers that Woojin isn’t in the kitchen, but rather, he’s standing in front of him with a sheet of paper.

“What’s that for?” Jihoon nods in the direction of the paper.

Woojin doesn’t reply him but he hands the sheet of paper over to Jihoon. He looks utterly serious and Jihoon raises an eyebrow at that, wondering if it’s something that he really should be worried about or if it’s just Woojin playing a prank on him.

> **CONTRACT**
> 
> _ This contract details how Mr. Park Jihoon is contracted to be with Mr. Park Woojin for the rest of his life.  _

Jihoon doesn’t continue reading the sheet of paper because there’s a grin that’s tugging so harshly at the sides of his lips that it starts to hurt. "You're so annoying."

"I'm your favourite annoying," Woojin grins as he grabs a pen from his pockets so that he can put it in Jihoon’s hands. “You’re signed on Maroo Entertainment but you’re contracted to me for the rest of your life, Park Jihoon.”

“Ugh, you’re really the worst,” Jihoon sighs. But he’s holding onto the pen and getting ready to sign the contract. He signs it without looking at the rest of the content (even though Jihoon knows that he should read it), and then he’s throwing the paper and pen away to another part of the couch so that he can pull Woojin into the sweetest kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

  
  
  
**(Epilogue:**   
  
"Hey, isn't it a good thing that we have the same last names?” Woojin suddenly says. 

They had been sleeping together in Woojin’s apartment until the sunlight streamed in, and hit their bodies. Jihoon had groaned as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. It feels strange that they had decided to remain together, and made stronger promises of  _ now and forever  _ despite the shit that they have went through with each other, even after Wanna One’s disbandment.

“What,  _ why _ ," Jihoon replies. When he doesn’t turn around to look at Woojin, Jihoon can feel the way Woojin tightens his grip around his waist—a soft command for attention.  

"Even if we get married, no one else would know," Woojin grins, and Jihoon can hear the smirk in his voice. “We’ll still remain as Parks.”

Jihoon turns back to meet woojin's eyes, and makes sure to roll his eyes hard. But it's the very truth, and Jihoon hates the way his heart skips a beat at the very thought of them being together, for the rest of their lives, past the fiery moments of youth and adulthood, till death do them part—and Jihoon thinks that he wouldn't have it any other way.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jihoon says.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Woojin grins back at him.

Jihoon hates how he’s right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being with me every step of the journey of my first chaptered fic. 
> 
> There will always be parts that I'm not entirely satisfied with. It's a short chapter. It's been a ride and I'm really thankful for every one of you (especially Reena) for helping me. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I had a fun time writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/99izm) or please also feel free to leave any thoughts that you have on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/chamwink).


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